Through the Shadow
by kurosora1984
Summary: A centuries-old curse. A lonely King. A chosen sacrifice. When fate spins death, only the heart given in love can save them, bringing them through the shadow. AkuRoku
1. The Heartless King

**Author's Note: **This story is one hundred percent a birthday gift to my darling Lauren (theisraelproject107)! I can't even begin to say how amazing she is and how much she deserves so much more than I can possibly do for her. *hugs*

This is a little outside of my usual genre, unexpectedly, so we'll see how it goes. The plan at this point is to post weekly, unless Lauren says otherwise. ;3 Also, as you all know, this is fanfiction and the characters aren't mine – past present, and future, now and in every chapter to come. Mkay. ^.^

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Chapter 1 ~ The Heartless King

In the ages before the great thing called Science raised its grim head and began to spout answers to every question the human race could think to ask; in the time between the dawn of history and the Ages of Advancement – those centuries of greater and greater speed and hurry in the lives of men – in this long-forgotten time, the race of men lived scattered over the land. They ventured to sea, but not far, and they ventured into the wilds, but only a little. On the whole, humans followed the spreading, gentle valleys – places of peace, with streams for water and fertile ground for food. Here they gathered in small villages, clusters of life breathing and smiling and aging and crying arm-in-arm from birth to the grave, for rare and few were those who ever turned their steps away from the familiar pathways of home. No, mankind had not yet learned to roam – the centuries past were fewer in those days than they are today, and the people who lived then were closer to the years gone by.

Life was simple and quiet and quaint, a gentle balance between laboring for one's own survival and enjoying the simplest pleasures of being alive. The stories told by firelight in the evenings were as fantastical as daily life was mundane, and yet they were told and heard with complete credence – every man, woman, and child knew with conviction that these stories of the strange and supernatural were utterly true, for this was the time when fairytales were born, first in reality, then in retelling. They knew to have faith in the stories chanted by the old ones, for it was never a guarantee that some new story might not be about to begin…with them.

The possibility seems exciting to us today, but to them it was a dark and dreaded terror. The legends have lost their raw horror through the years, gathering instead the beauty and idealism we long to paint them with. However, in the years when the tales were born, they were unvarnished, frightening – a black contrast to the golden light of the common villagers' peaceful, everyday life. No one wished to meet with adventures. No one wished to lose the fragile, precious security and happiness of home.

No one wished it…but stories were still being born. The impossible and the magical were still alive in that time, still moving, still tearing the occasional lone soul from his quiet village life and casting him into the jaws of a legend, waiting to be born.

On a bright day in spring, the world of magic would sharpen its talons once again, preparing to capture the victim of a newborn legend.

~o~

"Roxas, wait for me!"

"No way, Shorty! Watch me eat up all your dinner by the time you get home!"

"Shut up! I'll be taller than you when I grow up!"

In the tiny village of Strife's Ford, so called because of the ford across the nearby stream and the family that had first settled there, the men were heading home from the fields for dinner. Two little boys, brothers, had broken ahead of the general group of farmers and raced one another down the only real street their village could claim.

The blond who called laughing taunts back to his little brother kept easily ahead of the smaller brunet boy – though Sora was only sixteen months younger, he had always been small. His legs were still short by comparison to his brother's, and the boy could never seem to keep up with the elder son.

"Last one home is a warty old to-oad!" Roxas sang out teasingly, to his little brother's dismay. Sora unleashed a whining cry as he stretched his legs even further in a desperate attempt to catch up with his brother. Unfortunately for him, Roxas could go a bit faster too, and refused to allow Sora to catch him.

By the time the two reached home – Roxas winning the little race, of course – Sora was gasping for breath and beginning to whimper. The boy had always been a bit of a crybaby, and his brother's teasing, more often than not, caused the young lad to revert a few years and begin pouting like a small child again.

"No fair, Roxas…you never play fair!" Deep blue eyes were full of betrayed trust, and the pouty lower lip was quivering dangerously. The taller blond took note of these signs and rolled identical blue eyes in exasperation – an expression that only increased when their mother suddenly appeared in the doorway. One glance at Sora and she turned to her elder son.

"Roxas! Have you been picking on your brother again?" Hands landed on hips as dark hair was tossed aside with an impatient flick of the neck.

"Mo-omm, we just raced is all! He's crying over nothing again!" Sora was already winding skinny arms around his mother's waist – a gesture thoroughly reminiscent of his old habit of clinging to her skirts, only adjusted now by a slight increase in the brunet's height.

The dark-haired lady sighed in exasperation, murmuring under her breath, "These boys…" Then, looking up, she caught sight of the men coming in from the fields, her husband among them. Suddenly businesslike, she shooed her children toward the back of the house. "All right boys, enough from both of you. Go wash up at the pump and get inside quick, dinner is ready."

The blond child disappeared in a flash, the brunet following soon after, forgetting his mother's skirts as he continued to follow behind his brother. The lady was left on her doorstep, smiling as she waited for her husband. When he reached their house, calling farewells to the other men, she stepped forward.

"Cloud. Welcome home."

Her husband turned a tired but kind and warm face to her and reached for her, soon wrapping his wife in a warm embrace. "Tifa," he gently answered, placing a kiss on her cheek.

His wife accepted the gestures, then turned briskly with her husband back to the house. "Dinner is ready. Were the boys helpful today?"

His arm around Tifa's waist, Cloud conversationally answered, "At times." He chuckled. "Their constant competition is sometimes a useful motivation, and sometimes only a distraction to them. But I think they are improving. They will both be a great help this season."

"I'm glad." Tifa's small smile betrayed her pride – apart from her personal strength and good housekeeping, the fact that she had given the next village leader two sons right away was looked upon by all as another proof of her worth as a good wife.

"And the girls? Have they been helpful to you today?" Cloud asked, recognizing his wife's pleased smile.

At this, Tifa rolled her eyes. "They are gradually becoming more useful in the kitchen, when they are not sending me to the end of my wits." The twins had been making Tifa worry over the extent of her wits almost since their birth eight years before. Cloud chuckled again at his wife's repeated complaint as the two entered their house, then, with a few final words, turned toward the back of the house to wash up as well. Tifa returned to the kitchen, where Naminé and Kairi were waiting, Grandfather Strife already seated at the table.

Soon, the entire Strife family was noisily gathered around the dinner table, sharing their small but hearty meal amidst seemingly endless conversation. In the warm evening light that now, in spring, lasted a little longer than before, the village occupied itself with many such family dinners. The foremost family in the village was as ordinary as any other, as happy as they could wish to be, and fated for a terrible misfortune…though they knew nothing of it yet, and just as well – that time was still a long way off.

~o~

The table had been cleared, the dishes cleaned, the fire lit. The sun had set, for evenings were still a bit early, and the family had gathered around the fire in the main room, for evenings were still a bit chilly. At such times in Strife's Ford, any house that held an elder was sure to put this sort of evening to but one use – the telling and hearing of fascinating, terrifying tales.

Old Strife, the village leader, was no embarrassment to the town's oral traditions. In fact, of all the storytellers in the village, he was known to be the very best, and his grandchildren happily took advantage of his presence in their home and always troubled him for a story at the end of the day. Of late, the stories had been even more frequent – Old Strife could not claim to be too tired from working in the fields to tell stories, for he had lately injured his leg and was forced to remain at home while it healed.

Thus, on this evening in spring, as the clammy dew fell outside, covering the village and raising a damp smell from the earth, Old Strife was cajoled and pleaded into telling one of the frightening local legends.

"All right, all right, you pests! Sit quietly and I'll tell you the tale of the Heartless King." The children gathered happily before their grandfather on the floor, watching his old face in the firelight, entranced already as the man's voice lowered into his customary storytelling chant.

"It was long, long years ago…my grandfather's grandfather was but a babe. In that time, a great and powerful ruler reigned in this valley, and his castle was high and lofty and splendid, and it was perched at the very top of Old Smokey. There was a fabulous court there, and nobles decked with jewels came and went like glittering streams."

"But Grandfather," Sora broke in, "How could they have a castle on top of Old Smokey, and be able to get to it?"

The orange firelight reflected brightly in the old, dark eyes. "Ah, Sora, that is because long, long ago, Old Smokey was not like today. Today, you cannot so much as set foot there, for the whole mountain is a tangled wilderness, and even rabbits cannot make room for a burrow. But in those days, it was a clean, open forest from base to peak, and there were wide, cobbled roads that sloped gently upward, all the way to the top. A four-horse carriage could easily make its way up…what's more, there was room enough on the roads that two carriages could go abreast, so there was no trouble at all if a nobleman going up in his carriage happened to meet another noble coming down the same road."

The children's eyes were wide as they tried to imagine this. Even the best roads in Strife's Ford could mean trouble for two wagons passing one another.

"Well," Old Strife continued, "In those days, as I say, there was a mighty ruler. The king of the whole valley, and many valleys beyond lived there, and held court in great and marvelous glory. He was a young and magnificent king, and a good ruler. His people loved him, and all was well. Yet…" Old Strife glowered darkly as his voice lowered, gloom seeming to creep closer into the room as his words became darker, "The king had one fault, and terrible it was – he was a proud and arrogant man.

"Many other kings sent their daughters to him, seeking to make them his queen and form an alliance with the great king, yet he cruelly turned them all away…sometimes after toying with their affections in a most brutal manner. You see, he believed that none were worthy to be his queen, and his arrogance led him to be cruel to them. At last, after many years of this behavior, the king made a fatal error with one princess.

"She was the daughter of a king in a small, distant country…and her mother was a fairy from the forest in that kingdom. Her own people knew that their princess had powerful magic in her bloodline, yet they were far off from here, and their rumors never reached the king's ears. And so, when the arrogant king received this princess at his castle, he had no idea that she was not a person to be toyed with. And what do you think he did?"

Roxas piped up in an awe-hushed voice, "He made her mad."

Old Strife nodded wisely. "More than that. He was heartlessly cruel to her, and crushed all her hopes…for you see, she had really set her heart upon him. She had been charmed by his handsome face and great power and wealth, and when he turned her away so harshly, she was shocked to the core.

"She left in a furious rage, and as she travelled back down Old Smokey she continued to seethe in her anger…and soon she fell into a black and bitter hate. All the hate of her magical heart came seeping out like poison, creeping away into the forest the whole length of her journey down the mountain. At last, when her carriage reached the bottom, she called to the driver to stop, and she turned back and looked up to the castle.

"Then, in a voice that rose like the howling of a mighty wind, she spoke a curse upon the king. _'You heartless, cruel man!'_ She said. _'You have swallowed my heart with your black soul…Now there shall come against you a monster to avenge my sorrow, and it shall eat your heart in exchange for mine. And yet, you shall not die! You shall live as a dead thing, all light and happiness forbidden to you for eternity! And, like you have consumed the hearts offered to you, you shall live on by consuming hearts in truth…yet none of them will fill the void in your own chest. I curse your life, I curse your kingdom…I lay this eternal curse upon you, from this very moment!'_

"And with the princess's words, the sky grew black and thunder shook the mountain, and all the hate that she had scattered over the mountain came alive in the darkness, and began to form the shape of her revenge from that moment on."

The children's eyes were wide and fearful, and Kairi had begun to whimper. Her grandfather spoke more quietly.

"Yet, as she rode away from the mountain, the princess felt her anger fade away and turn to sorrow. And her own broken heart caused her to pause, and she spoke again, this time in a voice like a whispering spring rain…"

"What did she say?" Naminé whispered, blue eyes wide with wonder.

Old Strife shook his head. "No one knows…but she cast a little hope after her curse. It was a slim ray, and it was a thing that the king himself would never have a chance of finding on his own…yet her provision allowed that somehow, by some powerful magic, another might find a way to redeem him.

"Well, she left. The sun returned to the mountain, and the king lived on in ignorance of the curse…but he had little time left. The hateful monster born from the princess's curse was growing greater and stronger in secret on the mountain, and it began to prowl about in the night. Soon, rumors had reached the king of a terrifying beast in the forest that came out at night and was blacker than a starless sky.

"Now, the king was a great hunter – he loved hunting as his favorite sport. And so he decided to hunt for the great beast, and he laughed about the matter and rode out during the day to try to catch it and kill it, but he never found it while the sun shone. And his advisors and friends worried greatly, and all warned him to come back before nightfall, but do you think that the proud king would listen?"

"I bet not!" Sora cried in answer.

"Exactly so," his grandfather replied. "One night at last, he remained out far too late, and before he could reach the castle again, darkness was falling. It happened that it was a rainy day, and as the king and his hunting party turned back toward the castle, a dank mist rose up around them. But this was no ordinary mist, for soon it had isolated each man from his neighbor…and it was not long before the king was lost in the forest, and alone."

The children had gathered closer, leaning in tensely and listening. Cloud and Tifa watched them with smiles, yet both were also sobered slightly, for they knew the end of the story, and it was no laughing matter to them.

Old Strife spoke quietly now, slowly building in volume to add intensity. "The king wandered in the mist, searching for his companions, but the path seemed to have gone all wrong, and he couldn't find his way. Soon, it was fully night, and he should have been afraid, but no. The foolish, arrogant king thought nothing could ever harm him, and he laughed in the very face of the darkness!

"And that's when he heard it…a low rumbling and rustling in the trees. A great, heaving breathing sound – it was the monster of the princess's hate! It had found him!" A collective gasp rose from the children. Old Strife sat back. "Well, no one knows all the details, for no one saw it happen, yet it is certain that the beast caught the king, and, with its horrible black claws and teeth, it tore his heart out of his chest!

"The king's screams were heard over the whole mountain as his heart was eaten before his very eyes. And, by magical means, the far-away princess heard it too, and knew her curse was fulfilled. Then, she sent a terrible storm over the mountain, unlike any other storm ever seen. For this storm brought torrents, not of rain, but of fire. Fire rained down upon the mountain, burning all the beautiful forest and sending all the nobles fleeing for their lives in terror. The whole mountain was covered in the rain of fire all night, and then, when morning dawned, nothing could be seen except smoke.

"The mountain smoked for a week – that is how we came to call it Old Smokey – and no one ventured to set foot on it, to find out what had become of the castle or the king. At last, when the smoke lifted, a strange sight met the eyes of those who waited. They had expected to see nothing but a burned and desolate waste, yet it was not so. Instead, a great and dark forest had grown up in place of the lovely one that had been there, and the whole mountain was a tangle of dark undergrowth that had sprung seemingly from nowhere. The roads were destroyed or hidden, and none could make any headway onto the mountain. Old Smokey was dark and silent, and dark and silent it remains, to this day."

In the breath of silence, Roxas spoke quietly. "What happened to the king then? Did he die?"

Now, Old Strife's face took on the grimmest expression yet…a dark gaze that was faintly echoed in the concern and trouble on Cloud and Tifa's faces.

"No, Roxas…though his existence now can hardly be called 'living.' He has become a monster himself, a horrible creature atop the mountain. We know he lives there still, and the princess's curse is still at work. Remember, she cursed him to live forever, and to eat hearts. And so he does, to this day."

At this point, Cloud gently broke in. "Children, do you remember what I told you a few years ago, when it was the Tenth Year?"

All four faces turned to him, eyes wide, and four heads nodded. Naminé spoke softly. "You said that all that year we had to stay inside during the full moon every month."

Cloud nodded. "To this day, the king is on the mountain. We didn't tell you this story then, because you girls were too little…it would have scared you. But now, every ten years it seems, the king must find a heart to eat. And, during the Tenth Year, whenever the moon is full it is dangerous to be out, whether you live in our village, or in any of the villages around this whole land…all the area that used to be his kingdom. For the king sends out a spell that chooses his next victim, and, once chosen, that person will be compelled to leave family and home, and go to the mountain…and never be seen again."

Real fear was beginning to dawn on the girls' faces, while Sora and Roxas glanced nervously at each other. Roxas finally asked, a squeak in his pre-adolescent voice, "Why don't they just ignore it? Why do they have to go? How do you get chosen anyway?"

Now Tifa answered, her voice somber and quiet. "It has been longer than my life since a sacrifice for the king was chosen from our village, yet I have heard stories from others. It is something like a bright falling star that comes during a full moon, yet no one can predict what month, and it falls onto a careless wanderer who dares to be out. It binds a circlet around their throat, and soon the circlet begins to squeeze. It forces them to the mountain."

Old Strife nodded. "When I was young, I saw it. A young girl…it found her. The circlet around her neck would squeeze and choke her, and it would only loosen when she walked toward the mountain. Soon, she had to leave or face strangulation, and the circlet continued to drive her on until she walked onto the mountain…and none ever saw her again."

Cloud spoke again, his voice serious. "That is why you children must be very careful during the Tenth Year – never go out after dark during any of the full moons. We want you to know this now, so that you can be prepared, and also so that you can understand, if you ever hear these stories passed around in the village."

Kairi now piped up with a question. "When is the Tenth Year, Daddy?"

Cloud looked at her kindly, smiling slightly. "Don't worry, Precious. The last one was when you were four – the next is not for another six years yet. How old will you be in six years?"

Kairi looked at the ceiling, deep concentration etched into her chubby features. "Ummm…"

After a long pause, the crease between Kairi's brows growing deeper and deeper, Naminé leaned over and whispered to her. "Fourteen!" Kairi cried happily.

Tifa smiled. "That's right. You'll be a big girl by that time, and you'll be sure to stay inside during the full moons, won't you?"

Kairi nodded vigorously. Naminé also nodded, joining in her agreement. Sora glanced over at them, then at Roxas, then at his mother. "Do we have to also? We're _boys_."

Old Strife spoke up, the serious tone back. "It makes no difference. Many boys as well as girls have been taken over the years. You must be careful too, Roxas, Sora."

Sora gaped, but his brother threw an arm around his neck. "We will, won't we, Sora? No problem!"

"Yeah!" Sora agreed, happy to have his brother on his side about something. "We'll be careful!"

"I'm glad to hear it." Cloud nodded approvingly.

"And now," Tifa broke in, "I think it's time for four little Strifes to head to bed." She gave a meaningful look at the children, and was not fazed by the ensuing whines and pleading. Tifa Strife wouldn't budge on bedtimes, and her word was law. The children were all soon bustled off to bed, wrapped up warmly against the chilly spring night, and the candle at last was doused.

Lying awake in the dark, drifting closer and closer to sleep, Roxas pondered the story of the Heartless King. All for pride, this good ruler had become a terrifying monster, alone throughout the centuries with no way to save himself…it was frightening, and yet, to Roxas it seemed somewhat pitiful too.

A rustling in the dark told him that Sora had rolled over, and soon his brother was whispering to him.

"Roxas…are you awake?"

"Yeah…what is it?" The blond replied in a whisper.

"I don't want to get eaten by the monster, Roxas…"

Roxas sighed. "Stupid," he whispered back. "You won't. Just be careful during the Tenth Year. Nothing to it. It's the safest curse I've ever heard of."

There was a pause, then another whisper, sounding more relieved. "You're right. Of course. Good night, Roxas."

"Good night, Sora."

With that, silence fell again, and soon Roxas was listening to Sora's heavy, even breathing. Still, images of the lonely monster atop the mountain drifted around in his mind. The king, the castle, the fairy princess and the monster…all danced about in his imagination until he drifted into dreams, never noticing the difference between being asleep and awake.

~o~

The spring planting gave way to the long, golden days of summer, and soon they too changed, becoming the hurry and tumble of fall harvest with a new nip in the air. Sora and Roxas grew stronger and more useful in the fields and never ceased competing, each measuring their height carefully, squabbling over half-inch differences.

Fall grew cold and dark and became winter, and Kairi and Naminé spent a great deal of time becoming more helpful in the kitchen. Roxas' voice began to break and deepen, much to Sora's dismay. However, spring was soon back again with more planting and work to be done, and soon the year had turned round again, and it was Sora's turn to happily hear his own voice change, though by now he wished the change was over, since Roxas' was nearly done.

Another year went by, and another, the seasons chased one another's tails round and round, the village rose and fell with the cycles of the year, smiling and breathing and staying very much as it always had. Children had growth spurts, and both Sora and Roxas took turns bravely gritting their teeth through the pains in their legs, secretly taking every delight in their mother's occasional sympathy and their sisters' gentle pampering during the worst. Especially as their sisters grew and became lovely young ladies. Soon Naminé and Kairi had also begun to change from girls into capable young women, each attracting the eyes of the other lads in the village, and both a pride and joy to their big brothers, who defended them with threatening glares at the younger, infatuated pups.

And so the turning of the years and the slow march of fate brought the twins to their fourteenth year, and Roxas to his eighteenth – the first year he would be properly called a man in the village – and Sora to his seventeenth, ever just a step behind his adored older brother.

In the meantime, the years had also stolen something precious from the Strifes – Old Strife had died one long, harsh winter, sadly well before his time. Illness took the old village leader from his children, and left Cloud as the new leader – one of the youngest that Strife's Ford had ever had. Thus, Old Strife never lived to see the next Tenth Year, nor the cruel twist of fate that it brought to his family.

~o~


	2. Chosen

**Author's Note: **For Lauren.

A teeny bit short, this chapter. Ah well. I'd like to announce confirmation that this will be updated weekly, and I have set myself to post on Sundays. So look for your updates around Sunday evenings…and I'm in the Eastern time zone, USA. ;3

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Chapter 2 ~ Chosen

The first truly warm day of spring was drawing to a close, and Roxas and Sora were walking along with their father and the other men of the village, returning home for dinner. The deep voices of the men laughed and talked among themselves, until one stood out above the others.

"Well, well, Cloud, your boys are all grown up this year I see!" Roxas and Sora turned to the speaker, along with Cloud, who smiled as he responded.

"Yes, Cid, they're nearly grown men now. Making their papa proud." Roxas smiled at his father while Sora beamed brightly.

Cid glanced over at the young men, taking in matching blue eyes and two wiry frames that, though they had never grown very tall, were still lean and strong from hard work. "Any father would be envious, of course." He grinned, then slapped Cloud on the back. "But what about your eldest, eh? Roxas here is a man this year, yet we haven't heard of the little rogue talking courtship to any of the young ladies. Aren't you looking to marry the first one off?" A few surrounding men laughed along with Cid. Roxas turned pink and looked away, while Sora grinned wickedly at his brother's embarrassment.

As alike in stature and appearance as the brothers were, Sora and Roxas had developed quite different temperaments. The sunny-looking blond was actually the quieter and more reserved and serious of the two, though it was hardly to a fault. It was only that, in comparison to the energetic brunet, anyone would look reserved. Sora, it seemed, had gotten so used to running after his brother that energy and effort had come to define his very nature. To his credit, however, Sora had also learned to be a good sport and a hard worker and a kind young man. In fact, Roxas was all of those things as well, only more quietly so. Sora, with all his energy, just naturally outshone his brother at times.

And, though neither young man spoke up in the company of the other farmers, they both knew that the topic of marriage was one better discussed for Sora. The brunet's energy had extended into his flirtatious relationships with the opposite sex, and Roxas' reservation had likewise been reflected in that arena. Unfortunately for both of them, their age order was set, regardless of their readiness. Roxas was older, and Roxas was bound to find himself under marital scrutiny first – even more so because, as the eldest son, he was to be the next village leader.

"Well," Cloud looked thoughtfully ahead, "I suppose we have been wondering when our son would come home telling us about some charming young lady…but Tifa and I haven't heard a word of it yet, to be honest."

Cid only seemed amused at this. "Oh, ho! Keeping all his affairs on the sly, is he?" General laughter again followed the burly farmer's jests. When the laughter died down, Cid leaned in to speak lower to Cloud, ignoring the bright coloring of Roxas' face.

"You know, my friend, that if you should be looking about for a good match for him, my girl Yuffie is his age…" Cid winked.

Cloud smiled gently. "Thanks, I'll remember." Sora stiffened, drawing Roxas' momentary attention, and a concerned look flashed across the blond's face. Of course, marrying Yuffie was out of the question – Roxas knew of Sora's flirtation with her. What he hadn't realized was that Sora would show any particular attachment to that one…the brunet was a terrible flirt, and for all Roxas had known until now, Yuffie was just another village girl to him.

Wanting to help set his brother's mind at ease, Roxas hummed under his breath so that only Sora could hear, "Neeeeeever will happen." He then glanced sideways with a grin at his brother, just as Sora glanced over at him. The smile in Roxas' deep blue eyes communicated to the brunet, who soon lit up with a relieved and grateful smile. Nothing else was said between them – they understood each other's thoughts very well.

The farmers, however, had hit upon an interesting topic, and spent much of the remainder of the walk back to town discussing possible brides for Roxas, never allowing a moment for the blond's face to lose its rosy tint. After a while, they moved on to secretly smirking Sora, then to the other young men in the village, until nearly everyone they knew had had his soul mate found for him at least twice.

And in that jovial manner, they reach Strife's Ford and dinner and the warm, secure shelter of their homes.

~o~

Cloud and Tifa sat by the fire a little later than usual, after their four children had gone to bed. There were a few matters they needed to discuss, and Roxas' evident lack of interest in prospective brides was the simpler and more pleasant one. They had soon concluded together that there was no need for them to interfere yet; Roxas still had plenty of time. This decided, the couple was quiet a moment, before Tifa broached the more frightening subject.

"I heard the rumor again today, from a new source this time. They still would not say which village, but repeated to me the story that one of the villages in the valley has already lost a young girl to the falling star's selection."

Cloud sighed heavily. "It is still early in the year…it would have to have been the first or second full moon. And, given what happened ten years ago…" He shook his head slowly. Tifa nodded.

"Yet it may not be Nibelheim this time…it might be true."

"It might be, but I prefer to err on the side of caution. It costs us nothing to keep the Tenth Year with great care, right up to the end. I will warn the villagers to be careful at the next meeting. Most do not know of Nibelheim's lie. Ten years is a long time."

Tifa frowned angrily. "And such a horrid thing…to spread a rumor that the sacrifice had already been taken, in the hopes that the other villages would think it safe and become careless…only to protect their own people. Their leader is a cold, calculating man."

At the mention of the leader of Nibelheim, Cloud bowed his head slightly. "Sephiroth thinks only of himself and his village…he has no human feeling beyond that. It was foolish of us to believe the rumor last time. We cannot afford to do so again. Last time we were lucky…the star still chose from another village. But it might just as well have been one of ours, for we were as unguarded then as any." Finally, he looked up into his wife's eyes. "I will not let this village make the same mistake again."

Tifa nodded seriously, and reached out to her husband's hand.

~o~

"Damn it Sora, get back here! What do you think you're doing?"

A laugh echoed back softly from a dark shadow under the tree that grew beside the house, right up next to the boys' bedroom window. Roxas couldn't see his brother, concealed as he was from the bright moonlight, but he could hear his clear whisper in the silent night.

"I'm helping you, you shy dimwit! You've got to find the right girl before Mother and Father pick _mine_ for you without knowing it! Come on, I've got it all set up." With that, Sora began to sneak away from the house, becoming clearly visible in the silver moonlight.

"Sora! Sora!" The brunet didn't seem to hear. Roxas glanced fearfully upward at the full moon, then, cursing under his breath, clambered out of the window and easily climbed down the tree after Sora. Catching up to his brother, Roxas whispered angrily, "Sora! This can _wait_. We can't be out, it's a full moon!"

Roxas could hear his brother's eyes roll in his tone as he replied, "Oh, come on Roxas. You heard it too – everyone is saying how the sacrifice was already chosen somewhere else. We're perfectly fine for the next ten years already. Don't be such a baby about the monster on Old Smokey!"

Roxas felt slightly offended at the statement, and shot back with less caution, "Me? A baby? That's amusing, coming from the one who was still scared of getting chosen this year as recently as last _fall_." Sora pretended not to hear and hurried forward. Roxas could do nothing but follow.

After several minutes of silent travel through the deserted, locked-up village, Roxas' patience started to wear thin again.

"Sora…"

"Shh!"

Obligingly, Roxas lowered his voice to a whisper again. "Fine! Just…tell me where we're going though? I'm almost afraid to ask who you've picked out." Roxas was well aware that, among all his brother's good qualities, not only was bravery sometimes a little lacking, but common sense too. Sora could be a little foolish, and Roxas feared for whatever awkward meeting he was about to face.

"Be silent, we're almost there."

Sora would give nothing away until they reached a certain house, at which point Roxas no longer needed to ask.

"Sora…you can't be serious. This is _Rinoa's_ house, Sora! _Rinoa?_ And _me?_ You must be joking."

Sora, however, had already struck a few well-thrown stones against the sash of a certain room's window. A moment later, the window opened and Rinoa, fully dressed, leaned out. Seeing the boys, she only smiled and placed a finger over her lips, indicating silence, then gestured for them to wait a moment and disappeared again.

"Come on! I told her where to meet us." Sora turned and raced off, Roxas jumping to quickly follow as they headed for a barn some ways away, circling around it to the field on the other side, where Sora stopped.

"Well, here we are. I'll be off then. You're welcome, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Roxas could clearly see his brother's mischievous grin in the moonlight, and reached out to grab his arm and stop him as he turned to go.

"Damn damn damn it Sora! Stop!" His free hand fisted quickly into blond hair in exasperation. "Why in the name of the _damned_ are you trying to set me up with _Rinoa?_"

A sly, secretive smirk spread Sora's lips. "Want to know?" Roxas only nodded seriously. Sora folded his arms and answered, "She's the only one I'm absolutely certain won't have me." The smug look on his brother's face made Roxas feel like punching the young man in that moment. However, he could already hear soft, light footsteps approaching the barn…

"Oops, I must go!" Sora giggled and spun away, hurrying across the field away from Roxas, just as Rinoa rounded the corner of the barn and joined the blond boy in the shadow it cast.

In a slight panic, Roxas glanced at the girl, wondering what he should do, then glanced up again at Sora, who was still nearby. He wanted to just dash off after his brother without a word to Rinoa…he never had been able to speak with girls very well, and Sora almost could not have picked a worse lady in that regard, for Rinoa had always made Roxas feel mortifyingly awkward. However, Roxas' nervousness was short-lived.

For, instead of the moonlight shining clear and silver and cold, the whole field was suddenly lit by something else…a glow that grew brighter and brighter with every moment. In the space of a few breaths, the barn, the field, the young people, and everything in sight had become bathed in the new light…in a flaming, burning red luminescence. Sora had stopped in the field, looking back at Roxas, and all three exchanged confused glances for a moment, then looked around for the source of the red light.

Roxas saw it first, as he looked into the sky. It looked like a huge red star, hanging low, and it moved like a bat through the sky with terrifying speed. No sooner had he seen the source of the light than he realized what it was…and at the same moment, the darting light turned and dove straight for the field where the young people stood.

As it drew rapidly near, bathing the land in red until it looked like the scene of a bloodbath, Roxas' mind raced. For the briefest moment he thought of hiding in the barn…but they were around back; they might not make it to the barn doors in time, and even then, those doors might be locked. Then, a moment later, Roxas realized that although Sora had seen the light by now, the brunet was just staring at it in awe.

Sora didn't understand, yet, what he was seeing.

_Damn_. Roxas only had time to curse his brother's slowness with one more half-formed thought before he was running, feet pounding the soft, thawed earth. Somewhere behind him Rinoa was hiding in the shadow, whimpering, curled up with her hands over her head, certain that she was about to be taken…but ahead…

The light was shooting fast and straight, straight for Sora. And so was Roxas, running like he had never run, feeling but not hearing his brother's name ripped from his throat as he tried to scream a warning.

"_Roxas…are you awake?"_

"_I don't want to get eaten by the monster, Roxas…"_

"_We're perfectly fine for the next ten years already. Don't be such a baby about the monster on Old Smokey!"_

Roxas hit Sora at a full run, knocking them both to the ground just as the light reached his little brother.

And then, greater than the pain of his fall, there was a terrible, burning pain – a viselike, choking grasp around his neck, a feeling like being strangled by fiery talons of some powerful bird of prey.

Roxas couldn't breathe, and the combination of the stranglehold on his neck and the sprint that had deprived him of oxygen sent the blond into an immediate blackout.

But not before a few tears of relief slipped from his eyes – he knew that Sora was safe.

~o~

When Roxas opened his eyes, it was cold and he could breathe, and there was the sound of quiet whimpering sobs from somewhere nearby. He became aware of the cold ground beneath him, dampness soaking into his back slowly…and a slight pressure around his neck.

Blinking, he moved, then pushed himself halfway up. Sora was beside him, and glanced up immediately, tears streaking his ashen face. Rinoa was nowhere to be seen.

"R-Roxas…" Sora's voice was a throaty sob, "I'm so sorry…I'm sorry Roxas…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" The brunet kept repeating these words, over and over.

Roxas, still in a daze, slowly reached one hand up to his neck. His fingers immediately confirmed what he had known already – a cold band that felt like metal chilled his feather-light touch.

_So…that's it. I saved Sora, at least._ With slightly trembling arms, Roxas reached for his brother and enfolded Sora in a gentle hug. The sobbing boy met the embrace with a desperate, clinging one of his own. Through his jumbled feelings of sorrow and pain, Roxas almost laughed. It was just exactly the same way that Sora had always clung to their mother's skirts.

"It's OK, Sora…it's OK."

~o~

There was no point in hiding it. Roxas and Sora walked slowly and somberly back to their house. Rinoa had fled in tears before Roxas woke up, and the brothers had stayed a long time, holding one another and grieving. They were exhausted and emotionally spent, yet the night wasn't over. With stone-heavy hearts, they opened their own front door.

Cloud and Tifa started up from the dying fire, shock and incomprehension on their faces as they beheld their sons. The questions, however, died on their lips as Roxas stepped forward into the light…and the golden lamplight shone brightly upon the metal band around Roxas' throat. They saw the ribbon of blood-red metal and knew. Without a word, silent tears slipped from Tifa's eyes, and a moment later, she fell into her son's embrace.

Roxas held his sobbing mother and looked up, beyond her, slowly meeting the clear blue eyes of his father.

"Father." His voice was quiet. "It…was trying to get Sora. I had to protect…" A sudden lump in his throat halted the rest of Roxas' words. Cloud glanced quickly at his younger son, who remained huddled miserably by the door.

The leader of the village swallowed thickly. "I'll…go wake your sisters."

None of the Strife family slept that night. They stayed together through a long night of tears, unwilling to lose to sleep even one of their last hours with their brother and son.

~o~

The following day, the village had to be told. It was well-known from the stories that the sacrifice had only one day of liberty before the circlet would begin to force him toward the mountain. Cloud sent word throughout the village by his nearest neighbor first thing, and none went to the fields. All were soon assembled for a town meeting.

The entire Strife family arrived together. Cloud made the announcement, which was greeted with open dismay and mourning. He then asked that those who needed particularly to see Roxas quickly do so, but that, for the rest, the village would leave the Strife family alone until tomorrow, allowing them as much time as possible with their son.

And so, a few of Roxas' closest friends came forward, and brokenhearted farewells were said. Roxas invariably ended up doing the most consoling. The full story and the truth of the circumstances were not told – Cloud had decided to wait until the shock passed to explain everything. And, what was more, Roxas dearly did not want to be seen off like a martyr – he feared that the town would come to look down upon Sora if that became the case. And Roxas didn't want anyone blaming Sora, now the next village leader. Even more, he didn't want Sora blaming himself…but that, at least for the moment, seemed inevitable. Roxas could only hope that, if he made it clear enough before he left that he loved his brother and bore no grudge, then perhaps someday Sora would find a way to recover from this blow to his heart.

The rest of the day was shared among the Strifes exclusively, and the whole village silently grieved apart, yet gave them their privacy for this day. Night approached with terrifying speed, concealing from all sight the final farewells in the Strife home. Only a few who were watching saw the door open and a lone figure quietly emerge and, glancing back once, turn and disappear into the darkness.

So Roxas Strife departed alone, leaving his family and the only life he had known, and turned his face toward death, and vanished into the night.

~o~


	3. The Face of Death

**Author's Note: **For Lauren. *heart*

Regarding time frame and apparel: Axel's (yes, it's Axel time!) clothing is circa 14th to 15th century – in terms of ancientness, I'd place his origins earlier than that, but in _fact_ men mostly wore robes before then, sooo I'm taking advantage of this being fantasy and leaving off historical accuracy here. Just to answer any questions before they happen. ;3

If the clothes look dorky in your mind, you obviously do not understand how hot Axel is – he can pull _anything_ off. And, if you must, just ignore this initial description and think of whatever you like – I don't refer to his clothes too often, so you can form whatever mental picture works for you. ^_^

* * *

Chapter 3 ~ The Face of Death

Dawn broke cold upon Roxas, its pale, gray light colorlessly displaying the foot of the mountain before him. Roxas looked almost blankly at his destination – his feet hurt terribly and he was exhausted from walking through the night. From the beginning of his journey, though his heart had been reluctant and his eyes clouded with tears, his steps had been swift to the point of hurry. The metal band around his neck would not allow for dawdling – the slight pressure would increase whenever he slowed his pace or tried to turn for a look behind him. Though he could not see it, the memory of its appearance in the mirror at home was fresh – a simple band of metal around his throat, plain except for its color, which was blood red. He could picture it now, squeezing mercilessly, a red noose of death dragging him to the slaughter.

At the very foot of the mountain, Roxas felt sure he was going to have to pause and hoped that the circlet would understand, for once. There was simply no entrance in sight. He could see nothing but a wall of impassable undergrowth crowding the trees; Roxas had no idea how he was going to proceed up the mountain fast enough to keep the circlet from strangling him. Short of hacking out his own trail – a time-consuming endeavor – it seemed impossible.

And yet, when he halted his steps to search for a gap in the foliage, the instant clenching of the metal band forced him forward again, throwing him bodily against the forest…which suddenly parted of its own accord, removing itself from Roxas' path. And there, revealed beneath his very feet, was a broad, cobbled road. It was somewhat ruined and overgrown by weeds, but it was more than passable, as the first few yards made plain.

Roxas dared only one quick look back, braving the circlet's anger, only to discover that the opening had closed behind him and that all around was nothing but dense brush and closely packed trees. The road that stretched ahead of him until it reached a bend was nothing but broken stones and rubble behind him, fading within a few feet into a tangle of wild foliage.

After that, Roxas never looked back again. His neck could not bear the punishment, nor could his heart bear the cold shudder of fear at these foreboding signs. _No way back._

Instead, he hurried onward, compelled to walk swiftly in order to protect his neck from further abuse. At times he stumbled wearily over broken bits of road, yet he couldn't stop. He began to wish that this nightmarish journey would quickly reach its horrible conclusion – even though he still felt fear when he thought of the monster waiting to eat him, he was reaching his own breaking point after such a long, forced march. His legs wobbled with exhaustion, yet they were no longer his own – they automatically obeyed the circlet's control.

Before he had travelled long on the upward-sloping road, Roxas had begun to use the heavy weight of the objects he carried as a crutch. His father's keyblades were not meant to be used as walking sticks…but Roxas' arms were already too tired to carry them otherwise. He regretted it, but he had no choice other than to cast the metal weapons aside. And he could never do that. Before leaving home, his father had carefully taken out the ancient family heirlooms. The keyblades had not been used in generations – there was no need for weapons in their farming village these days. Cloud had handed the two sharp blades to his son, insisting that he take them, in spite of Roxas' protests against taking the heirlooms away to a place from which they would never return.

"_My son, you may not be able to change your fate; nevertheless, I will not see you go like a lamb to the slaughter. Even if the monster wins in the end, you may yet make him remember the sting of a Strife. I will believe that much."_

Roxas doubted he'd stand much chance against an ageless monster, once a mighty king – he had never fought in his life, beyond wrestling with Sora as boys – yet he wished to do all he could to fulfill his father's words. And so, he tightened his grip on the keyblades and ignored the exhaustion that seemed determined to make him abandon his weapons. Maybe this monster would pay a price for this year's meal.

Roxas stumbled again, catching himself with the keyblades as the circlet tightened insistently. He felt his eyes sting with threatening tears of fatigue and pain. To ease his burden, he thought instead of his family, and the gifts he carried from them.

His mother had also insisted on sending one of her family heirlooms with Roxas – an old, engraved silver locket. The tiny details were so worn that they barely showed anymore, but the Lockhart family crest was still visible in the soft metal. Inside were two tiny drawings – Cloud and Tifa on one side, and Sora, Naminé, and Kairi on the other. Naminé had spent the day creating them, carefully including each tiny detail so that Roxas could take pictures of his family with him.

In his pocket was a handkerchief embroidered by Kairi. It was somewhat imperfect – Kairi was still not very good with a needle – but his sister had likewise spent the day on it, carefully adding his name in fine blue thread to the handkerchief that she chose as the best from all the ones she had done.

From Sora…he had a promise. It was one he had asked for specifically, and Sora had been reluctant to give.

"_Promise me Sora…promise me you'll forgive yourself one day." He brother only sobbed on his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. I want to know that my life wasn't wasted…and it won't be, as long as you live yours fully."_

In the end, Sora had promised. And, of all the gifts from his family that eased his mind as he climbed the mountain, this one was the most comfort to his heart.

In spite of his exhaustion, Roxas spent much of the day following the road upward. It was a long climb on foot, even if the cobblestones did make it easier than blazing a trail through dense underbrush. And, as Roxas gradually climbed, he soon noticed a distinct drop in temperature. To some extent it may have been expected – he was rising in elevation, and after midday passed of course it would grow cooler. However, it was soon clear that the cold was not so naturally explained.

As Roxas rounded another bend in the road, a fresh wind struck him suddenly in the face – an icy wind, strong and cutting and entirely unseasonable, even for early spring at the top of a mountain. It was a dead-of-winter cold, and as Roxas looked around, the land began to look more and more like a winter scene.

Another few turns in the road, and there was no more questioning it – snow lay upon the ground now, in ever-increasing thickness. The sky – or as much of it as Roxas could see through the dense foliage overhead – was a solid gray. It seemed likely that such clouds were the bearers of even more snow. And, by the afternoon, with the trees locked in ice all around him and a deep layer of snow on the ground, the clouds and the wind had begun to bring yet more snow against Roxas. It struck his face savagely with the force of the howling wind, numbing him to the bone with cold and cutting through his inadequate clothing. He hardly knew if he was holding his keyblades anymore; he had to check often to make sure of it, and it seemed that they only remained in his grasp by virtue of having been frozen there.

A new dark was gathering now – the little light that had managed to illuminate the world through the clouds was fading with the end of day. Roxas rounded one more bend, certain that he would not make it to the next – he felt his legs trembling and threatening to give out and leave him to be strangled by the circlet in a matter of moments.

And there the road ended. It stopped directly in front of a solid stone wall.

More than double the height of a tall man and stretching away flatly to both left and right, the tightly-cemented stones faced him, looking utterly forbidding. Now Roxas was sure that the circlet never meant to give him any chance to face the monster – it certainly planned to leave him dead outside the wall, allowing the heart-consuming beast to come and fetch its dinner later.

This thought lasted for only one black, despairing moment, however – his feet continued to move, numbly obeying the tight clench of metal around his throat. This time, before Roxas could find himself walking bodily into the much more solid obstruction, he put his hand out, stretching it toward the wall.

The moment his fingers rested on the icy stone, Roxas was startled to see a sudden flush of rosy light dance through the gray where he had touched. The stone grew suddenly warm, and a moment later a perfect seam had appeared between the stones and the entire wall parted neatly for him to pass.

Roxas was through, and he never looked back to see the stones close soundlessly behind him. Ahead was the castle.

In direct contrast to the tangled, impenetrable mess that the forest all around the road had been, the forest beyond the wall suddenly opened up. In fact, it more resembled a park, with widely-spaced trees and no visible undergrowth, smooth, even trunks in neat rows leading straight up the remaining incline to the castle in the distance.

Everything was white with snow – even though it was spring in the valley, the trees here didn't have any leaves. Between Roxas and the castle, it seemed that everything was dead, and had been for many long years. And, far ahead between the trees, Roxas could see the castle – a towering building that would have unnerved him completely had he not been exhausted beyond the point of feeling much emotion.

The entire castle, as far as he could see, was pure, raven black.

For a long moment, Roxas could not tear his weary eyes from it…until a new realization surprised him into refocusing on the present. He was standing still…and the circlet was not strangling him. Roxas raised his fingers to verify that it was even still there. Numb though he was, the blond could tell that the metal band remained; all pressure from it seemed to have ceased, however. It was simply…there.

Impulsively, Roxas turned back to the wall, far from surprised to see it closed back to its solid, impenetrable state. He was surprised, however, when his reaching hand touched cold stone again, this time eliciting no change from the wall. Though it had responded to his touch to let him in, it stood now, solid and endless, trapping him within its boundary…alone with the castle.

Bitterly addressing the circlet around his neck, Roxas mumbled, "So, this is what you meant to do." _I suppose this means that there's no escape from the monster once inside the wall…_ The realization made Roxas almost want to curl up where he was, succumbing to the fatigue and huddling up somewhere against the cold and let his opponent come to him. He didn't know if he had the energy to go seeking the monster…even less if he had to then fight for his life right away. Still, after a moment's hesitation, Roxas squared his shoulders again and turned from the wall, stepping as strongly as he was able toward the castle.

_It may do me no good…but I'll go as far as I can to meet him on my own terms, and not be caught hiding in the forest. _

The long, but somewhat easier and slower walk to the castle gave Roxas time to study the building. As more of it came into view, he could see that it was a hulking, enormous thing – almost like a giant monster itself, sleeping atop the mountain. And yet, at the same time, the towers and sweeping walls had a kind of elegance and grace. Certainly the building was not cumbersome or ugly…it may have even been beautiful, if not for the grim amounts of black. Like a hearse…

And, in the dying light of the day, Roxas remembered that this castle was not only his destination, but it would be his coffin. This sinking gray daylight was to be the last daylight he ever saw. He was going to die.

Roxas was not prone to tears or displays of emotion; however, with the crushing weight of his own exhaustion seeming to press him into the ground every moment, he simply didn't have the strength to fight away the few salty tears that slipped from his eyes, leaving stinging, frozen tracks on his numb cheeks. Despite his determination to seek out the monster, Roxas' steps slowed just a bit more, and the young man turned sad blue eyes to the snowy world around him. He wished now for just one more sight of green things growing, as he realized that there were none around him now. Still, even on this desolate mountain, Roxas was able to appreciate the wintery beauty that sealed the world in white.

And so he walked slowly, gathering his strength as his eyes lingered on the frozen scene around him. And, though he didn't hurry, it seemed like he reached the castle far too soon.

The forest fell away and Roxas was before an enormous iron gateway, the frozen metal doors already standing open, revealing a wide, ice-covered avenue. Dead, snow-covered trees lined the way up to the castle's great black double doors. As Roxas walked this avenue, he carefully hefted the weight of his keyblades, making certain of his grip as his senses pricked, keenly alert for any sudden attack.

At last, Roxas stood before the doors. There had been no sign of motion or life, no threat or presence at all, during his entire walk from the wall to these doors. Now he faced these too, and wondered how he could open such a massive barrier. Remembering the wall, Roxas stretched out a hand, touching the cold wooden surface, his fingers brushing frozen-over engravings and gilt designs that would be ornate and fantastic were they not blackened and covered in ice.

And, as before, warmth spread where his hand touched, and with a loud groan, the doors swung open.

A few steps inside, and Roxas could hear another sound beginning to grow distinct enough to be heard over the still-opening doors. It was a low, echoing, mirthless chuckle.

Roxas froze just inside the door, swiftly searching for the source of the laughter. However, before he could pinpoint anything, the chuckle dissolved, and the voice that had been laughing spoke.

"Come in, come in, my prey; let me have a look at my feast."

Adrenaline was helping to push aside Roxas' fear as the young man stepped further into the enormous, breathtaking foyer. For a foyer it must be, although it more closely resembled the interior of a cathedral in size, and something like a ballroom in design. Roxas scanned the dark corners carefully, yet could not locate any motion or find the speaker.

And then, the great doors swung shut behind him, and the dim light grew all but pitch black. Fear of being defenseless in the dark spiked in Roxas before, a moment later, what seemed to be an endless array of candles around the room suddenly sprang to life. The huge room was now lit with a yellowish glow, yet remained dim.

Suddenly, the voice began echoing again, and as it spoke, Roxas carefully sought the source once more.

"My my…very well done this time! You managed to bring me a boy…after fifty years of sniveling little girls." The words were spat with disgust, and seemingly not addressed to Roxas but to…the circlet? "And he looks well, too…does he even come determined to battle me?" Now the voice had grown so amused that it broke into that dead-sounding laugh again.

"I must have a better look at this."

And, without warning, the voice suddenly had a source – barely a step behind Roxas. The blond jumped and began to swing around, but the speaker's movements were lightning-swift. Two powerful hands clamped vise-like over his arms, holding him immobile from behind. Roxas was about to begin struggling to break free and injure his captor, when the presence touching him moved terribly close – only a breath away, if that – and spoke low in his ear.

"Hold still, little prey."

Suddenly and inexplicably, Roxas was rooted to the ground and unable to move. His very breathing was halted as he struggled to draw in air – he was utterly paralyzed.

The voice seemed flippantly concerned. "Oh, forgive me. Too tight?" The next moment, whatever was holding Roxas loosened slightly – he could breathe, he could even move just slightly, but his limbs were still fixed in place.

"Better. Now," The voice grew deeper again, oozing with lazy pleasure, "Let's have a look." Roxas felt himself being sized up from behind – he was still unable to see his captor at all, though he assumed it must be the monster. The hands on his arms traced up to his shoulders, then slowly down again as the voice spoke.

"Hmm. Not only a boy…better. A young man…no weakling either, though he's small. And," The touch reached Roxas' hands, which grasped the keyblades, "he comes ready to fight, with a strong spirit. Ahh, this will be a most delicious dinner." The unseen creature drew even closer, until it must have been all but touching Roxas, for he could feel body heat behind him. Then, an inhalation – Roxas could feel the air drawn through his hair as the creature _smelled_ him, the voice becoming heavy with pleasure…almost a purr. "Mmm, wonderful. After fifty years of empty-headed little girls, I'm practically starving to death. This one's strength will sustain me well."

Roxas was battling hard against his own fear, struggling to suppress the desire to cry out or to show the panic swelling in his gut on his face. He didn't want the monster to see how terrified he was…yet a new burst of fright almost broke his control when he felt the monster's breath hot upon his neck, just below the circlet…and then, a moment later, a searingly hot, wet touch.

It…it was _licking_ him. Roxas remained frozen, his mind in shock, certain that devouring fangs would follow the long stroke of that tongue over his skin.

"Ahh…" Hot breath and the brush of lips still so, so close…close enough that he could feel the words, "A fresh sorrow in his heart too…and not a little girl's silly heartbreak either. Sorrow…real sorrow. And fear…" That empty chuckle again. "Why bother hiding it, fool? I can _taste _your fear. And something else…" Suddenly, the tongue was back, gliding smoothly over his neck, up and down, tracing the jugular. Then suddenly, that mouth _did_ close down upon Roxas' neck, over the same vein, and he felt his flesh sucked hard, probed and teased…

And when the monster let go again, after a long moment during which Roxas felt himself grow lightheaded with panic, the deep voice was chuckling hollowly again. "Delicious…delicious…how wonderful! The strength and vitality of a young man, a sorrowful heart, and all of it as pure and untainted as a boy, even on the threshold of manhood! But you're not a man yet, not _that_ way, are you, my little prey?" The laughter grew louder, stronger, and yet remained as mirthless and hollow as at first.

Irritated, Roxas finally managed to find his voice, though it was somewhat harsh from being forced out through his fear. "Are you going to eat me or laugh at me, you coward? Or will you play the hunter, since you call me "prey"? Come and face me, monster!"

The laughter died, and a moment later, an arm shot around his body, the iron grasp of a cold hand immediately closing around Roxas' throat. The voice was close again, a threatening whisper in his ear.

"Silence, _prey_. Be grateful for every breath, now…they will cease for you soon enough."

With that, Roxas felt the cold hand loosen and the presence behind him withdraw a short ways. Then, to the sound of slow footfalls, the monster circled the still-paralyzed Roxas, and came into view.

It was…a man. No monster…no misshapen beast. Only a tall, strange-looking man. Roxas stared at him, as the man continued his earlier examination, though from the front now – for a moment, they silently examined one another.

Standing more than a head above Roxas, the man was lanky…yet he didn't seem weak. He was dressed strangely – his clothing must have been expensive once, but it was worn and in places tattered now. His shirt was long and loose almost to his knees and his breeches tight, and both were solid, undecorated black. Roxas realized that he must be looking at the fashion of several hundred years ago.

More startling was the man's pale, narrow face, framed by the wildest long and flaming red hair Roxas had ever seen. Even more uncommon were the black markings on the pale cheeks, under eyes…Roxas caught his breath. _Here_ was the predator. Here, in these unnaturally green eyes, that appraised him like a wildcat appraises a helpless rabbit.

A shudder of fear again struggled to rise and overcome him, but Roxas forced it back with what remained of his iron resolve and met those hungry green eyes with determination. Seeing the blond resolute, while still unable to move, the man's thin lips spread slowly in a sneer of cruel amusement.

Roxas interrupted the man as he was just about to speak, grinding out his words angrily, "I see you are not the beast I had expected. Nevertheless, if you plan to make a meal of me, I will certainly make it very difficult for you. Now release me from this spell or whatever you have done, and fight me if you've any courage or pride as a man!"

The man had only smirked more widely throughout this speech, growing close to breaking into dead laughter again, but at Roxas' last words his face fell instantly, becoming dark and threatening and emotionless, his deep voice echoing hollowly in the cavernous room.

"Man? I, a man? You are mistaken, prey. I have not been a man for centuries…I am most certainly a monster." Two slow steps forward, and he was only inches from Roxas again. A large hand stretched out and was placed against Roxas' chest, over his heart. "A man has a heart and a mortal life. A monster…" Fingers curled, clawlike nails clutching in the fabric of Roxas' shirt, piercing like razors through the material and scratching the flesh beneath. "A monster has no heart, but eats the hearts of men…and women…and even children. A monster lives forever, and doesn't care how many die. I _am_ a monster, make no mistake. And you…are dinner."

Through the renewed surge of concealed fear, the sorrow in Roxas' heart swelled, making itself stronger to him than even his fear for his life – his family…he would truly never see them again. He would never meet his brother's wife, he would never see his sisters dressed as brides or welcome any of their children into the world, he would never work beside his father again, feeling the man's pride in him, nor feel his mother's tender kiss on his forehead. His life was over.

For a long moment, the monster remained still, saying nothing, but Roxas didn't think of him, didn't see the form even as it stood directly before his eyes. He thought of his family; the creature with hard green eyes watched him, his penetrating stare unheeded.

Finally, the moment was broken as the red-haired devil released his shirt and stepped back, suddenly affecting an air of flippant indifference.

"Well. Nevertheless, it has been a dreadfully long time since I've had my food challenge me," He paused, glancing at the black shadows above thoughtfully, "…in fact, it may never have happened before, I can't recall…regardless," He looked back to Roxas, "I have no objection to satisfying your demand, little prey. I think a little duel might be quite enjoyable, and my existence has been utterly without entertainment for…a very long time." A hand waved carelessly as the monster treated the centuries like some troublesome thing he didn't care to bother with.

"So." The man continued, "I accept your challenge. Although, little prey," Green eyes glinting with amusement glanced over Roxas' bedraggled form, "Are you certain you're capable of much of a fight at the moment?"

Roxas opened his mouth to reply, but paused, realizing that the brave words in his mind were certainly lies in the face of the exhausted condition of his body. However, he had no plans to admit such a thing to the monster and give him a reason to forgo the duel after all. So, rather than reply, he passed a moment scrambling for a brave enough answer. In the intervening time, the monster continued speaking, answering his own question.

"I hardly think so. You look a fright, and are probably weakened from your journey. Perhaps I should delay this battle…allowing you a chance to recover your strength…" Suspicion filled Roxas' blue eyes as they shot up to meet the green gaze. Amusement once again stretched those lips into a sneer. "Oh, have no fear, little prey – though of course my word means nothing, my humor means everything, and I'll not change it. I've quite taken a liking to the idea of fighting you, and I should enjoy the hunt more if you were healthy enough to resist me at full strength." With that, the man turned, snapping his fingers and walking away. At that moment, Roxas felt himself loosed from the paralyzing, invisible hold.

"Follow me, little prey, and I'll provide you a place to recuperate in safety."

For a moment, Roxas didn't move. He was still extremely distrustful of this monster in the shape of a man, and the sometimes-sudden changes in mood had only served to increase that natural distrust. However, upon consideration Roxas realized that, as yet, the man had not lied to him. Roxas instinctively distrusted him, yet it was not due to this strange monster having told him untruths. In fact, though his words were frightening and cruel, Roxas had only heard the ring of honesty in everything the man had said to him so far.

In addition, he was now far beyond mere exhaustion. The adrenaline of his first encounter with the monster was fading, bringing an insistent awareness that Roxas was already on the verge of collapsing. In view of this, the blond quickly concluded that he had no choice; reluctantly but with no further hesitation, Roxas followed the receding form into the darkness.

~o~

"I had expected a dungeon of some kind," Roxas mumbled tiredly as he looked around the small, circular room.

The monster, having preceded him inside, causing several candelabra around the room to spring to life and light, turned and spoke to him blandly.

"Yes, well, I thought of that too, but I think if I put you in my dungeon in your current state you would be dead in the morning, which would take all the fight out of you. Not to mention your delicious heart would be almost inedible after a night in there." He waved carelessly about. "Of course I don't have any truly habitable rooms anymore, but you can sleep here and I'll have the place improved by the time you wake. Oh and food…of some kind…" He trailed off, speaking mostly to himself.

Roxas shuffled forward into the room, glancing around vacantly, barely able to see through his fogging vision. The room was dank, miserable, and dusty in the extreme. There were windows around the room, but nothing could be seen out of their grimy glass, and the walls permitted horrible drafts around them. Roxas could make out furnishings, but paid them very little heed, apart from the enormous, ancient bed.

The monster-turned-host continued airily. "Regardless, you can sleep here," A waving hand indicated the bed, "and when you are strong again we can have our little duel and then I'll eat your heart." As if that settled the entire matter, the monster walked unceremoniously from the room without another word. The heavy wooden door swung shut with a loud groan behind him, and Roxas was alone.

He felt he should be more distrustful…more careful. He knew he was being far too defenseless, even as he stumbled to the huge bed, his hands releasing his keyblades as he fell onto the musty-smelling mattress. He knew…but Roxas couldn't summon the strength to care. Even if he would never wake again, sleep refused to be put off another moment.

The candles dimmed and went out on their own as the lone occupant of the room fell into senseless slumber.

~o~


	4. Precarious Calm

**Author's Note: **For Lauren. ^_^

To amend a previous A/N in favor of the _first_ one: posting weekly on Sunday, _unless Lauren says otherwise._ Savvy? ;D

* * *

Chapter 4 ~ Precarious Calm

_Laughter. Roxas opened his eyes…he was home. He was home, in his own bed, and Sora was laughing nearby, playing on the floor in their shared room. _

_But something was strange. Sora…Sora was small. Roxas rose, moving closer to the boy sitting on the floor, rubbing his eyes as he peered at his brother. "Sora?"_

_The brunet looked up at him, and his face was that of a little child. "Roxas! Come play!" And Sora stood, and Roxas was only barely taller than his tiny little brother._

_It was a dream…he knew it for only a moment, before he forgot the knowledge and lost himself in carefree play with his little brother in their room, sunbeams slanting through the windows, lighting up the invisible dances of the dust. _

_After a time, they set their toys aside and just watched the dust drifting in the last daylight. Sora reached out a hand, stretching fingers into the sunbeam and trying to catch the floating specks. He failed, and both boys giggled. _

_Sora turned to Roxas with a smile. "It's like fairy dust." Roxas nodded, and Sora looked back at his hand in the light. "I love the sunlight, Roxas." _

_The blond watched, and the scene seemed to recede gradually. However, before it could vanish from sight, Sora stood, bringing Roxas back by his motion. "Come on Roxas, I want to show you!" _

_Not sure what his brother meant, Roxas followed, curious. Suddenly, Sora was standing before a large, ancient bookshelf – Roxas knew they had never had a shelf like that in their house. The boy reached up to a certain book, and suddenly the shelf had disappeared, revealing a door that Roxas knew had never been in their house. Smiling, he turned to his brother. "It's a secret. Come on!"_

_Roxas didn't see the door open, but the next moment he was enveloped in the darkness and knew he had entered. Sora was nowhere in sight, but Roxas could hear his laughter still behind him, bright and innocent. Yet Roxas…_

_Roxas was in the dark, in the cold, a bitter wind blowing down from above – he seemed to be in a tunnel that rose upward. He was frightened; this was a forbidden place. He tried to turn back and find Sora, following the sound of the laughter, but he could no longer hear where the sound came from. It drifted, seeming to leak from the very walls…until it moved again, and Roxas knew that it was coming from above now. From deeper in the darkness. _

"_Sora?" He called in fear; and for an answer, the laughter rose, becoming louder, wilder…and no longer his brother's. Yet it remained a child's laugh, gleeful and bright in the blackness, but unfamiliar and distant. _

_Roxas felt a strange panic begin to wash over him, and his legs began to move, though not of his own volition. He was rising, climbing what seemed to be steps in the blackness, approaching the laughter…_

_Until he faced another door. One that opened as he approached, ushering in blinding beams of light that hurt Roxas' eyes._

_He squeezed them shut against the light…_

~o~

When Roxas woke, slowly opening his eyes, it took several moments of sleepy confusion and eye-rubbing for him to remember where he was and why. Then it took another moment of gazing blankly around for Roxas to recognize the room that he had been brought to the night before. He sat up slowly, and as he did, a heap of fine furs and silks and other materials that had been piled on top of him fell to the floor.

The walls were solid, their cracks filled, and the windows all around the room were clean, allowing a view outside of several other parts of the black castle, all covered in snow and lit with a gloomy gray daylight. Roxas could no longer feel any drafts, although it was still cold in the room. All traces of dust and dirt were gone. Merely by virtue of a simple cleaning, the room had gone from gray and wretched-looking to colorful and quite splendid, in an old and slightly ruinous sort of way. For, though it was now clean and encased by solid walls, the room still held the same collection of ancient furnishings, archaic décor, and miscellaneous tatters, all hung with shadows and signs of age.

None of this was the first thing Roxas noticed, however. Motion caught his eyes almost as soon as they opened, and he quickly focused on the scurrying forms of several small creatures in the room. They were as thoroughly black as the castle itself, and resembled a cross between a small child and a monster of some kind. Upon Roxas' sitting up, they all stopped their activities around the room – it appeared as though they were the ones who had cleaned, and were now finishing the task – and all scattered in an apparent panic. After a moment, they had vanished under the door, leaving Roxas alone.

He did not know how long he had slept – it was daylight now, but what hour, he could not tell through the heavy clouds outside. At least he had been left alive, allowed to wake…though whether or not he truly would have an opportunity to defend his life was still a doubt in Roxas' mind.

A surge of momentary panic gripped him and his wide blue eyes cast about for his keyblades. A moment later, he exhaled in relief – they were there, beside the bed, within easy reach. He stretched out a hand to one and took hold, just to make sure.

With a slam, the giant door flew open, causing Roxas to jump in renewed panic. The red-haired monster was there, striding into the room purposefully. Roxas' surprise continued as he saw what the man brought.

He was dragging a slaughtered deer by one leg.

Unceremoniously, the man dropped the creature in the middle of the floor, ignoring the blood spreading over the floorboards. He then turned a cold, evaluating stare to Roxas, who had scrambled from the bed to stand defensively when he first saw the man enter, and spoke matter-of-factly.

"You look better, little prey. Good. This," He pointed at the carcass, "is for you. For food."

Roxas blinked in shock and turned his gaze to the animal again. The poor thing was covered in shallow injuries, its neck a mass of mangled flesh, and there was a large hole in its chest. Other than that, it might have been alive. In fact, if Roxas' eyes guessed correctly, it probably had been alive until a very short while ago.

He looked back at the monster, and only then did he notice the fresh, drying blood covering one of the man's hands, dripping slowly from fingertips and sharp, clawlike nails. A shiver of fear danced over his skin again, making it impossible for Roxas to compose a response…not that he would have known what to say regardless.

In the blond's silence, the waiting redhead seemed to grow slightly uncomfortable, shifting his weight a bit and glancing uncertainly at the animal, then scowling as his gaze travelled around the room. His eyes fell upon the large fireplace, which had been filled with wood but left untouched. Carelessly, he flung a hand in its direction, and the hearth blazed with a sudden, vigorous fire. Still, the man didn't seem satisfied, and after another moment of stunned silence from Roxas, he began a hurried, slightly defensive explanation.

"You need to eat to regain your full strength, I know, but I have nothing here that is edible…I have only eaten hearts for centuries. So I sent the Heartless to go kill something. I would have done it myself, I'm an excellent hunter," There was a flash of arrogance in his speech, followed next by bitterness, "only I cannot leave the wall, and no living creatures come within it. So this is what the Heartless caught." He was suddenly shuffling slightly, seeming…embarrassed?

"The Heartless are useless…they don't know how to cook. They are not proper servants…just minions." His dissatisfied glance scanned the room again, taking in the work that the Heartless had apparently achieved. He huffed. "You've no idea how long it took me to even make them understand the concept and process of removing dirt. Well…they did all right in here for all that. At least you won't suffocate on dust now."

Roxas continued to stare wordlessly at the man, who paused before speaking again, evidently uncomfortable with the silence. "I also had them bring those…" He pointed at the pile of fabrics, "for you. To keep you from freezing to death. They couldn't do much else though. So you will have to prepare this," he now pointed at the dead animal, "on your own. If you want it cooked. I ate the heart already." This final afterthought seemed to finish off everything that the monster could think of that might need explaining. He stood silently now, seeming to wait for Roxas to acknowledge his understanding or do _something_ to make it possible for him to leave.

Roxas, to his own great shock, began to chuckle. It was so terribly amusing, the ageless monster from the night before standing there awkwardly in the dim rays of daylight, berating his slaves for their lack of skill when it was apparent by deduction that the man would be just as helpless in a kitchen as they. And the way he had paraded in with the ghastly offering, and the clumsy efforts of the cleaned room and the pile of random cloth, and the almost childish way that the man explained everything without a word of apology to mollify the facts…everything struck Roxas as so absurd, so humorous, that he could not stop chuckling, in spite of the dire situation and the peril to his life.

Now it was the monster's turn to be stunned. He stared blankly at the chuckling blond, vague puzzlement ghosting over his habitually hardened features. His face bore the look of one who gazed upon something that was wholly new and utterly beyond his comprehension. His brows then furrowed in concentration, until the man seemed to remember something. Something that had made sense a long time ago.

_Laughter?_

His confusion mounted to an almost distressed level – the terrifying monster had no idea what to do. At the same time, he seemed to be growing vaguely indignant, as if he realized that, whatever this thing was that he barely remembered, it was something that was never supposed to be directed at _him_. Roxas saw the darkening of the man's features, felt the danger returning to his bearing, and calmed his own amusement immediately.

Still with a cautious smile in place, he finally spoke to his unexpected host openly for the first time.

"Thank you. If you have a knife of some kind, I believe I can manage."

The threatening air dissipated as green eyes narrowed in thought, then widened in recognition. "Knife! Yes…I think there should be such a thing…" He turned to a corner where a few of the black monsters – the Heartless, it would seem – cowered, waiting. "Get some of those…some knifes…knives!" They scattered immediately.

Roxas broke in carefully. "Actually, does this castle have a kitchen or something? I don't really want to clean it in here…"

The red-haired monster stared at him blankly. "Why not?"

Roxas blinked. "Well…it's a bedroom."

The monster glanced around the room with disinterest once more, emerald gaze vague and careless. "I suppose it is…" Then, without seeming to reach any conclusion to that line of reasoning, he blinked. "Kitchen. I may have found one once…ah, but that part of the castle is quite ruined." Then, turning suddenly without a word, he snapped his fingers at another hiding Heartless. "Bring it."

And the master of the castle strode out of the room without another word, followed by a crouching black creature dragging a deer carcass several times its size.

The entire morning – or day, whatever hour it was – had been nothing that Roxas had expected. He was feeling quite unbalanced still, not to mention hungry and sore. After hesitating a moment in thought, he moved to follow the strange procession out of the room. His legs complained immediately and his feet were suddenly hard to ignore – in spite of his desire to walk determinedly, Roxas found himself unable to control a heavy limp in his gait. However, he managed to follow, and, upon leaving the room, could see the small group just a short way down the grandiose, disused, shadowy hall.

The master was contemplating several doors, before seeming to grow exasperated. He suddenly stamped his foot in a way that distinctly reminded Roxas of little Sora, when someone would cross him as a child. He quickly hid the smile as the man turned to him, doors all along the hall simultaneously swinging open with a chorus of groans so loud nothing else could be heard for a moment.

When the hallway was silent again, the redhead gestured around, addressing Roxas. "Whichever you prefer is at your disposal." With that, he seemed happy to have the decision off his mind, and waited for Roxas' word.

Still stunned, Roxas asked uncertainly, "How…how did you do that?"

Red eyebrows knit together again as the monster shrugged. "Cursed immortals are bound to have some powers. Comes from having your life controlled by magic – you get to control it a little too. I've possessed a few inhuman powers since the curse began." His demeanor seemed fairly neutral, but Roxas was still on his guard – every time the monster spoke of the curse, a slight flicker of something angry and dangerous seemed to rise in him.

He concluded the explanation – which he clearly considered irrelevant – by returning to the question at hand. "Are you going to make use of any of these rooms, or would you rather use your own after all?"

Roxas shook his head, then checked himself and answered clearly. "No…I'll use another room. Thank you."

The blond stepped forward slowly, peering into each room as he passed. All were darker than his own room, their windows all coated in grime as his had been, and blocking out the light. Some, he could barely see, were bedrooms, though not circular like his own, while others seemed to have a designated purpose – a small library, what must have once been a music room, judging by the dust-covered instruments, and several differently decorated parlors. Roxas was in awe – all this splendor, all this apparent wealth and beauty from long, long ago…all rotting in place, covered in dust and falling apart with neglect. Yet still, so many of the rooms bore a quiet dignity and beauty…Roxas was terribly reluctant to butcher an animal in any of them.

Finally, he chose the most shabby and devastated-looking parlor. "This…this room will do well." Another snap of commanding fingers, and the Heartless began to struggle to quickly drag the deer into the room. A moment later, as the man followed and Roxas trailed behind, more Heartless began to appear as if from the woodwork, springing through the smallest cracks and gathering around, laying an offering on the floor – a whole collection of knives.

There were knives of every possible use and make and metal – rusted kitchen knives clattered with tarnished but bejeweled daggers, blackened flatware that must have been a beautiful silver once, and even a darkened gold letter opener. Roxas' amazement crept up a few more degrees as he watched, bewildered.

The Heartless scattered again after fulfilling their orders, scurrying away from their master, who paid no attention to them. He was glaring about the room, locating candles with his piercing green eyes, each one immediately bursting into flame. The increased light showed this room to be in terrible condition – there was even a great gap in the wall by the far window, and an accumulation of snow over the years had destroyed the floor there. A snowdrift was collected there even now, for the room was freezing. The master looked slightly unimpressed with the room, perhaps even faintly displeased, but he only turned to Roxas, who was making an effort to choose a knife with which to clean the deer, and asked, "Will you want to cook that, then?" At Roxas' affirmative – the blond was slightly surprised again by such an obvious question – there was another sharp command from the master, and soon the Heartless had scurried away and hurried back, bringing firewood and placing it in the hearth. Again, the merest gesture from the red-headed monster sent the wood blazing, which was soon helpful against the chill of the room.

Roxas settled on a silver dagger – the kitchen knives were all iron and had rusted, and it was hard to find a sharp, clean blade. He could only find one, and felt rather skeptical about skinning an animal with such an ornate thing…it was one of those with jewels encrusting the handle. However, without a better option Roxas began to deal with the deer with what he had, familiar with the process from hunting with his father. Yet, even with his hands busy, his mind was not on the task – he merely went through the motions that were clearly expected of him. By now he was beginning to get over his shock, and was baffled by the surreal experience of talking with a monster who planned to eat him. Even more strange, this creature was providing him with food and shelter, in a distinctly un-predator-like manner.

Roxas was unsettled. The man had acted so…evilly last night. It had been terrifying, but Roxas knew what to do with terror. Now, the monster's behavior was obviously more human. It was considerably more erratic and strange than the behavior of any person Roxas had ever known, but the mannerisms and faint expressions were also undeniably out of place in a heart-eating beast. It could only be an element of humanity he was seeing…yet this revelation could only puzzle Roxas. How could humanity coexist within such a monster?

What was more unsettling, this monster was not leaving. In fact, after lighting the fire for Roxas with a gesture, the redhead threw himself carelessly down in a wreck of an enormous old chair, drawing dust and protests from the furniture so that Roxas fully expected the chair to collapse. When it didn't and the man remained sitting, seeming disinterested but unlikely to vacate, Roxas returned to his task, trying not to feel too disturbed by the silent presence in the room.

Roxas had arranged several pieces of meat on the flat of the blade of a broadsword that one of the Heartless had brought and was sitting before the fire cooking them before he dared to speak to the silent man. Indeed, at first he felt no desire to speak, yet after a while of continued silence, he felt his curiosity overcome him, and carefully found himself beginning a conversation.

"If I may ask…why did you eat the deer's heart? Is an animal's heart fitting food for you as well?" The hidden condemnation laced his voice – if the monster was eating human hearts when he had no need to murder people…

Blandly, the man replied. "No, foolish prey, I must eat the heart of the chosen sacrifice every ten years or die…if the end of my existence would be a proper death. When I eat the human heart, it is the spirit within that I live on for the next decade. Animals have none. Still…habit, I suppose. Or instinct…or the fact that I'm absolutely famished from the last fifty years of meager hearts." His dull, conversational tone deepened toward the end, becoming a ravenous growl. Roxas glanced up to find bright green eyes suddenly fixed on him with murderous intent.

_Do not remind the monster that it is hungry and you are dinner. And distract it quick, before it attacks you. _Indeed, from the creature's look, an attack was only a thought away.

"I see…" Roxas carefully began, before switching topics entirely. "Well, if you don't mind my asking, what is your name? I…do not know what to call you." He was slightly sheepish at this – it was an odd question to ask of one who intended to eat you. He just hoped it would distract the man from the more dangerous topic.

The redhead paused. "You may call me 'king' or 'your highness' or 'my liege.' Those were in common use, when last I was addressed with anything other than a scream." The deep tone had thankfully returned to the previous boredom, laced once again with a hint of childish defensiveness.

Roxas turned to look at the man, bringing the cooked meat with him. "So you truly are the Heartless King…" he murmured. Aloud, he then said, "I will if you say so, but King…what?"

The green eyes were fixed on him, staring eerily in the shadowy room. Another long pause hung in the air, before the lips moved, the voice quietly answering.

"Just 'King'."

Nervous, Roxas only nodded. "Well…my name is Roxas, if you ever care to use it." Slight surprise flickered through the intense green gaze, but Roxas did not notice. He plucked a piece of meat from the sword, then extended his arm to the King. "Would you have some as well, Your Highness?"

Confused again, the King only looked at him. "I already ate the heart…"

"But it didn't do you any good, isn't that so?" Roxas smiled. The King blinked.

"No more will that. Only your heart…"

Roxas dared to interrupt, only because he wanted to prevent that thought. "Yes, well, don't eat it for sustenance then, eat it for pleasure."

"Pleasure?" The King, once again, seemed totally baffled.

"To enjoy it. As, I suppose, was your reason for eating the creature's heart." It was difficult not to shudder at his own words, but Roxas was willing to discuss anything as long as it did not cause the King to return to that dark, hungry frame of mind. Keeping all their interactions safe – at least until he had recovered his full strength – seemed an excellent goal at the moment.

The King considered this thought doubtfully, but Roxas continued to hold the meat out to him. After another moment, the King reached out hesitantly and took the offered food. He held it between two claws nervously, sniffing carefully before tasting the cooked food.

In spite of his reluctance, the King swallowed the meal whole, to Roxas' surprise. His face then became a confused jumble, as if he were trying to determine if he hated the flavor, or if it was simply too strange for him to react to. Roxas had to quickly turn his attention to his own meat and begin eating, lest he begin to laugh at the King again.

_I would never have imagined the Heartless King to be so peculiar…what an unlikely monster he can be in some moments! Yet I must still be careful not to provoke him…_

With that, Roxas turned to his food. The King watched him, and Roxas made no further offers, since the King displayed no interest. In that manner, Roxas passed his first meal at the castle.

~o~

Roxas limped back to the center of the parlor, after having deposited a package by the crack in the wall. The King had remained silent and initiated no conversation even after Roxas had finished eating, apparently having gotten over much of his initial awkward dislike of silence. In the absence of conversation, the young farmer decided to simply act according to his own habits. Thus, he turned from his food back to the deer, and proceeded to cut away a great deal more meat. Then, tying the chunks in a fabric bundle, he buried the food in the snowdrift in the room.

It was illogical, of course, to take such measures – the King had no use for the food, and Roxas hardly expected that he would either, unless he managed to defeat the monster. Still, wastefulness was unthinkable to the mind of a rural village dweller, and the task comforted him with its familiarity. He also used the opportunity to occasionally break the silence, asking politely if the King could send a Heartless for the fabric, or if he could likewise ask the Heartless to dispose of the rest of the corpse. Unfortunately, the King both times responded simply with commands to his minions, no discussion. He remained nearly silent, watching his guest, until Roxas was returning from the window.

A critical gaze appraised him, finally seeming to notice the terrible limp. "You are injured?" The King seemed vaguely displeased.

Roxas stopped several paces away and responded, tensely, "It is no true injury. It is merely the weariness from my journey that has taken a toll on my body." He fixed blue eyes on the King determinedly. "You have let me rest and given me food – I think no more need be done. I am well able to fight you now. I think you will find me much more of a challenging opponent than when I first arrived."

For the first time since the night before, that cruel, evil smirk spread over the pale face again. In a flash so fast that Roxas could barely follow it, the King was up on his feet and behind Roxas.

The blond whirled to face him, heart quickening with adrenaline. But the King did not move again, only raised an eyebrow as he watched the blond's movements. "You call _that_ your full strength, little prey? You think you can present a challenge like _this?_" Bright green eyes rolled, unimpressed. "I care nothing for what should be done or what you need; I have agreed to fight you, and I have told you that my pleasure is to fight you at your full strength. Don't disappoint me by telling me that this is it."

Roxas frowned. "It is only a bit of weariness, nothing truly crippling…"

"Silence." The tone had dropped again, a deep, resonating command. Roxas felt his jaw snap shut on its own as the room seemed to grow slightly darker. The King continued, "Now then. We will wait for the full recovery of your strength and have a nice, enjoyable battle to the death when you are the best challenge for me that you can be. I can wait for that. Time means nothing to me, after all." With that he grinned ironically, baring sharp-looking rows of teeth at Roxas, who nodded his agreement, still unable to reply. The King noticed his silence and seemed confused for a moment, before he remembered his command with a small exclamation and immediately snapped his fingers, releasing whatever spell had kept Roxas from speaking.

"Thank you," Roxas replied, relieved at the removal of the spell. Again, the King did not reply, only stared at Roxas with some blankness. Awkward silences were beginning to become a pattern, it seemed. Unsure what to do, Roxas continued, "Perhaps I had better rest some more then…" The King only nodded, and when Roxas turned to leave the room, he followed behind, trailing the shorter young man back to the cleaned bedroom.

Between the cleaned windows letting in the gray daylight and the still-burning fire, it was a good deal brighter in this room than in the murky hall. Roxas, attempting to disregard his silent shadow, moved to the bed and began sorting through the pile of material there. Selecting the most appropriate items, he proceeded to cover over the musty, tattered bedspread with cleaner cloth, as well as lay out several warm blankets to sleep under.

The King continued to watch wordlessly. Roxas had hoped that he would leave of his own volition, seeing that Roxas was preparing to sleep, but it seemed that the former-King-now-monster had no such delicacy of manner. At last, Roxas had only to climb into bed again, and he turned to find that the King had settled himself in a chair by the fire, to Roxas' great discomfort.

Containing his nervousness at the constant, silent, and inexplicable presence of the monster, Roxas sat down on his prepared bed and faced the King, addressing him conversationally.

"I am…grateful for your indulgence in allowing me to rest, but I must ask – do you intend to follow me about at all times, and even watch me as I sleep?"

The King looked at Roxas with a baffled expression. After a moment, he appeared to think, considering the question as if his own actions confused him as well.

"I…I have nothing else to do. I have never had a guest here before. I cannot remember the last time I had a conversation…one does not speak with one's dinner." He shrugged. "It is an occupation to watch you, and having such a thing is quite novel."

Roxas was skeptical. "Have you really no other? What have you done to pass the last few centuries?"

Again, that pale brow crinkled, somewhat unhappily. "I eat a heart once every ten years…"

"Aside from that."

"I…sometimes watch the Heartless. They…don't do much. I wander the castle…sometimes I break things. Or break the Heartless. I think…I have had nothing new here since time out of mind, and you are new. It is interesting to look at you. You are…different."

Roxas heaved a sigh at the strange, honest admission. At least the topic seemed safe – the King wasn't becoming threatening, for now. "Have you never thought to talk to the others, rather than simply eat them right away?"

A look of disgust crossed the man's features. "Lately, they have been nothing but little girls. They could only scream and cry; they had nothing to say. Worthless things. The taste is good, for they are pure, but there is so little in their silly hearts that they never satisfied my hunger." A dark glare was directed toward Roxas, yet not to his face – to the red circlet still clasped loosely around his neck. "I almost suspected that _thing_ of seeking to starve me, until it brought you."

The tone, the gaze, the sudden shift to darker moods made the King quickly transform again from a dull presence to a threatening one, sending chills of fear through Roxas again. However, he forced his voice to remain even as he replied, hoping to redirect the discussion to something lighter.

"I would have thought that you commanded this," He touched the metal band, "and told it whom to choose."

A shake of the monster's head sent wild red hair waving from side to side. "I do not command _that_ at all. I think it is under orders from the Witch…it leaves of its own accord once every ten years and drags my food here. I have tried to tell it what to bring, but it rarely complies."

Roxas listened to the complaint, but only replied selectively to one small detail. "What Witch do you speak of?"

The King blinked. "The one who cursed me, naturally."

Now it was Roxas' turn to frown. "I had heard…that is, according to the story that is told, it was a princess…and you…you broke her heart, and she cursed you as she left."

The King stared blankly at Roxas a moment before breaking unexpectedly into that hollow, mirthless laugh. "She? A princess? That inhuman spawn? Well, I suppose she also held the title as a daughter of a king, but that was no innocent angel princess that I turned away."

Roxas was stunned. "She was not a fairy princess in love with you?"

The laughter was almost a snarl now. "Hardly. And 'love' was never a part of the picture…with any of them. You mustn't believe _every_ detail of a story told centuries later by those who never saw the events. Such tales are all part lie and part true."

Roxas leaned back against the headboard of the bed, attentive. "Then tale I have heard must certainly be far amiss. Did you not break many hearts, and then fatally wrong one too many?"

The King was distracted a moment, the smirk in place again, touched with arrogance. "They still tell such stories of me in the villages?"

Roxas nodded. "It is a legend…your story."

The King turned thoughtful for a moment. "I don't suppose they tell of…" He interrupted himself with a swift wave of his hand. "Do not heed that. I will instead tell you the _truth_."

With an air of great benevolence, the King began to explain to his bewildered listener.

"I have not thought of these things in so long…I must try to remember all the details correctly. But make no mistake," A long, clawed finger wagged at Roxas, "that one was a Witch. And just like the others, only worse. You see, they were all sent by their fathers, kings who wanted to secure an alliance with me to aid their own countries' power. Yet even more attractive was my wealth – I could have paid a small fortune for a princess' dowry, and those little kings all wanted that. They sent their daughters – all beautiful, of course – to try to seduce me into marriage. Well." The King folded his arms with a self-satisfied air. "I made use of them as I pleased until I tired of them – which was soon, for they were all repulsive, foolish women – and then sent them away." He smirked again. "They were all furious."

Roxas was in shock. "You…you can't mean that you…that you defiled their honor and then refused to marry them?"

Indignant, the King answered, "Such an answer from an untried youth. Honor, ha! They all came with the intent of seducing _me_. I merely went along with their wishes as far as they suited mine."

Roxas could hardly believe such indecent behavior. "You broke their hearts…"

Another sneer, far crueler this time. "That's the story? I did no such thing. They were angered, humiliated by their failure, perhaps…not heartbroken." His gaze became dark again. "And then there was that horrible minx. She was the most cunning and dangerous. She came from wood nymph blood – surely her mother had seduced herself into the position of queen as well. Wood nymphs." He huffed. "Horrible, conniving things." Then, after a moment's thought, he amended, "Well, not _all_ are…but she was a holly spirit, and they are the most gaudy and prickly… and devious and cunning."

"Well, she tried everything to trick me into marrying her, but I was impossible to catch." The expression on the King's face was now distinctly smug. "I turned her away too, and the next thing I knew, I was attacked by a monster, the mountain was ablaze…then I was alone, and evidently cursed. And worst of all, that vile Witch never gave so much as a word of explanation so that I may know this curse! I only know what I have discovered by existing for these past centuries."

Roxas was still listening in wonder as the King's face altered again, becoming somewhat thoughtful and…sly?

"I'm curious, then, to know if the stories that are told have some other source of information that would have given them a better perspective than my own existence has given me. Perhaps you could tell me how the story you heard ends? Even with its lies, it must contain some truth, after all…"

Roxas attempted to gather his thoughts to answer the question. "I think…as I recall, Grandfather only told us how you remained here, eating hearts, and why we must be careful…in order to avoid being chosen." His face fell slightly as he spoke, but the King ignored the implication.

"Nothing else about the curse, or what spell the 'princess' cast?"

"No…only what you said, about eating hearts. Grandfather said that no one knew what else she said…"

"She said something else?" The King's posture was tense, his green eyes flashed intently.

Roxas was startled. "Something about how the King could be saved…but no one heard what that method was to be, and there was something she added about it being beyond the King's own abilities to accomplish it…" The blond trailed off – a deep, rumbling growl was resonating from the King. His hands were clenched into tight fists. Roxas rapidly grew fearful, watching him. Attempting to mollify the King, he spoke gently, "Still, Your Highness…"

He was cut off when the King snapped. In an instant he was on his feet, every inch a mad, raging monster. With a cry of pure fury that was half snarl, the King threw himself at a section of stone wall, fists striking so hard that the mortar around the stone blocks shivered and cracked away. Then, without paying the slightest attention to the young blond, who had barely kept himself from screaming in fear, the red-haired devil tore from the room, wordless cries of howling rage tearing deafeningly through the castle.

The next moment, he was gone, his departure almost a shock after his prolonged presence. Yet Roxas could still hear him – the sounds echoed endlessly, unnatural and inhuman…the cries of an infuriated animal. The doors had slammed themselves shut, leaving Roxas to huddle in dread under the coverings he had arrayed on his bed. At that same moment, the windows were suddenly rattled heavily by a blast of wind, and Roxas looked out to see that a blizzard had whipped up, darkening the already-fading daylight even further.

Trembling with fear and a bit of chill as the renewed cold crept in, Roxas buried his face in an old cushion and sought to muffle the nightmarish sounds.

After a long, terrifying time, the wind fell from screaming to a low, moaning, miserable howl, and Roxas finally fell asleep to its sorrowful lullaby.

~o~


	5. The Child

**Author's Note: **For Lauren. *flump* ;3

Regarding architecture: Abusing the freedom of the fantasy genre again here. While Axel's clothing is Medieval, the castle is a jumbled mess of mostly much later than that, up to and including Gothic. Tapestries are Medieval though. But yeah…again, feel free to imagine away. But if you want to picture the Beauty and the Beast castle (as I suspect some will) please don't tell me about it, I'll actually cringe at that. XD

If this chapter bores you, I'm sorry. The next one will probably make up for it. ;3 (I wanted to include certain things in this one, but it got too long. So, next week.) ;D

* * *

Chapter 5 ~ The Child

_Faint beams of golden light…dancing dust motes…the sound of distant laughter…but nothing else. Roxas' vision was blurry, unfocused. There was only the laughter and the faint light, and both seemed to come from a long way away, as if at the end of a dark corridor. _

"_Sora?"_

_His voice seemed to make no sound – he felt it in his throat, but could not hear himself. Everything was muffled, lost beyond the dancing dust…and Roxas was alone, and he could not bear it._

_He wanted to see his brother. A smiling face…anyone. He didn't want to be alone._

_He pressed forward, trying to walk through the darkness toward the distant light and laughter. It was as if his legs were rooted to the spot – he felt paralyzed, immovable, and struggled hard against the invisible restraint. Then slowly, gradually, as he strained forward with all his might, Roxas felt himself moving. Yet it was not the sensation of walking…it was almost as if the dark world around him began to slip past slowly, bringing him floating gradually toward the light._

_Then, from nowhere, there was a door – a door that immediately opened, swinging wide as the doorframe joined the rest of the world and slipped away behind him. _

_Roxas was in a bright, golden room, and the laughter was close, yet he still couldn't find it. He searched with his eyes, then began turning, his body gradually responding more and more, the paralysis rapidly wearing off as the room around him seemed to grow more real and substantial. The light streamed in from windows all around, golden, beautiful beams filled with the slowly waltzing dust, just like at home. Yet this wasn't home – this was a place Roxas had never seen._

_All around him were windows, and the ceiling rose on all sides to a peak in the center, like the inside of a cone, for the room was circular. And all about the room, there were toys – dolls, building blocks, toys that resembled carved knights arranged on a field of battle, and many other trinkets that Roxas had never seen before, yet were plainly meant to entertain a child. It was just like…a nursery._

_And, as Roxas turned around in curiosity, the incessant sound of laughter suddenly lost its echo, condensing and becoming real, with a source – Roxas' ears immediately told him that it came from behind him, and he turned to face the laughing child._

_It wasn't Sora. It wasn't either of his sisters or anyone he knew. It was a little boy, playing with the model knights on the floor, conducting a fine tournament as only a child could. Roxas watched, unnoticed. The little boy was dressed in a single smock that resembled a gown, extremely fine and rich looking. There were soft slippers on his feet too, embroidered beautifully. And his hair, just long enough to make a tiny ponytail at the back of his neck, was red like the deepest glow of fire. _

_Without warning, the boy turned to him, and, apparently seeing Roxas, extended a small hand which held a knight. "Come play with me!" The happy voice beckoned, but Roxas was staring at green eyes so startling in their brilliance, and so beautiful in their bright, shining joy. And beneath them…two identical black marks stained the soft, babyish cheeks. _

_It was familiar somehow…where had Roxas seen this face before? Nothing came to his memory…in fact, he had suddenly forgotten how he even got here. There was only this moment, in the nursery, as Roxas' legs folded and he joined the boy on the floor in play._

_His awareness of time faded; Roxas had no idea how long they played before an interruption arrived in the form of a large woman who seemed to come from nowhere. She bustled in, tutting and beginning to fuss over the boy, seeming not to see Roxas at all._

"_Now, now, Your Highness, your lady mother the Queen has come to see you. Here now, stand up straight and greet her properly!"_

_Then there was another woman, a tall, cold, regal form. Roxas could not see her properly – she towered over both himself and the boy. Both Roxas and the child were more taken by staring at the lady's fine, beautiful dress. Her voice seemed to come from far away, and it was deep and even and dispassionate, and Roxas could not seem to see her face somehow. All he could be sure of were two dark markings, very much like the boy's own._

"_Well, Axel, have you been good for Nanny?"_

_The little red-haired boy ducked his head and answered solemnly, "Yes Mother."_

"_Very good. You will soon have a governess come to replace her, and after that you will be meeting your tutors…" The voice carried on, speaking words about education and training and royal duty, but the words blurred together, becoming meaningless to Roxas, no matter how hard he tried to listen. The boy beside him seemed to feel the same, for he glanced unhappily over at Roxas more than once, slyly peeking at his toys while listening to the Queen speak._

"_Axel! Pay attention!"_

_The boy snapped his head back toward his mother, alarmed at getting caught. Then, by degrees, the world began to fade away from Roxas again, until he could barely hear any of it, or see the boy with the red hair still standing attentively, or feel the warm golden sunlight._

_The boy turned again, cautiously looking for his playmate…but there was no one there._

~o~

Roxas woke to the storm that assaulted his windows, howling as ceaselessly and forlornly as it had before he fell asleep. A glance at the panes of glass revealed only a blank wall of white. The cold had crept stealthily into the room, the fire having died shortly after the King left, and Roxas could not suppress his shivering under the blankets.

The King was nowhere to be seen. Even after Roxas rose and spent a great deal of time attempting to rekindle the fire, the red-haired man did not reappear.

Roxas was confronted with a difficult problem – he needed fresh firewood and a way to start the fire. What was more, none of the Heartless were anywhere to be found. When Roxas still found himself utterly alone after raking out the fireplace and removing the ashes to a pile in a distant corner of the room, he finally decided to leave the room on his own. He needed a fire or he would freeze…and he was growing hungry again.

Thus, Roxas retrieved some of the venison from the room where he had left it, now partially frozen by the cold. He then searched through several more rooms – pushing their heavy doors open against reluctant wooden groans – until he found, in one parlor, a tinderbox upon the mantle of the fireplace.

The tinder was drier than ash, and the flint proved most useful. Roxas did not need any magical command over flames, but he did need at least a good flint for a fire. Not to mention wood. Roxas knew he'd find nothing useful outside – not in this snow – but hesitated to make use of any of the castle's ancient furniture. He felt it would be unpardonable…but then he shook his head abruptly.

_I am not a guest here; I am an enemy. I am here to kill or be killed…surely an enemy need not worry about manners!_

And so, disregarding his mother's voice in his mind, which repeated all sorts of remonstrations about good behavior, Roxas found a dry old chair – to appease his conscience, he chose the plainest, most decrepit one he could find, hoping it had no value at all – and smashed it into firewood with the occasional help of a keyblade. Soon after, he had managed to coax a strong fire to life in his hearth, and proceeded to cook some more of the venison for his meal.

When he was still alone after eating, Roxas began to worry and wonder about the King. The blizzard still raged…surely the man would not go out in that and get lost? Surely, he must be inside somewhere? After all, simply because he had made himself Roxas' silent shadow for a while did not mean he must necessarily continue to do so…yet the absence still troubled Roxas. As he went to gather more furniture to rebuild his dwindling fire, he wondered where the King could have gone.

_He was dreadfully upset about the curse…I must have told him something horrible. It seems he didn't know about the hopelessness of his situation…at least, he may never have heard it confirmed before…_

He paused suddenly, catching his own thoughts with shock at himself.

_Why am I so troubled over the monster? He plans to eat my heart – he is no object for my sympathy or concern! I must think of some way that I can defeat him…I must do everything in my power to return to my family, even if it seems a hopeless situation._

With that, Roxas trained his mind upon his tasks, gathering all the old, plain furniture he could find and breaking it down to make a fine, large stack of firewood. He moved the ash pile into the room where he had cleaned the deer, and returned the rest of the meat to the snow bank again. Then, Roxas set about making himself more comfortable for his recovery, since it seemed he would remain in his current room for at least another day, perhaps two. He removed all the dry-rotted, musty bedclothes, depositing them as well in the second room, which came to be something of a workroom for him, as well as a dump for unwanted things. He then re-covered the bed with fresher linens, although where in this ancient castle the Heartless had managed to procure these undamaged fabrics, Roxas could not imagine. Still, he made his unusual assortment of blankets and clothing and various other cloths meet his needs for bedding.

Still the blizzard howled, and still Roxas saw no other sign of life in the castle.

At last, more or less satisfied with his arrangements and significantly tired from the work, Roxas looked around, wondering what he was to do now. For lack of any other ideas, he decided to explore his hall a bit. He had seen a small library when all the doors had been opened…

Sure enough, Roxas was able to find the room again, and began carefully examining the dusty shelves. However, when he gingerly opened one of the books, he found the writing to be completely strange and meaningless to him. Further examination revealed many such books, and, from the look of the lettering, not all were in the same foreign tongue.

Just as his curiosity was beginning to fade, Roxas opened a book that was written in a familiar alphabet. In fact, as he studied the faded script – for this book, like all the others, was handwritten – he was able to recognize some words. Some of the language became unfamiliar in patches, but he found that, if he examined it carefully and tried to fill in meaning by guessing, he was able to read the book somewhat. He found it to be an ancient tale of some travelers on a journey, apparently written in an old, long-forgotten form of his own language. How old, he couldn't imagine – it must pre-date even the monster's native time, for it was far more removed from present-day language than that creature's speech so far had been.

For lack of any other task pressing upon him, Roxas took the book with him back to his own room and drew a chair up to his fire. Lighting a few candles with a brand from the fire, he sat in their light and read the book as best he could, maintaining the fire and absorbing the legends from long ago.

In this manner, he passed much of the day before the light began to grow darker through the blizzard outside. Roxas also found himself hungry again, and so, taking a candelabra with him through the dark hall, he once again retrieved a portion of meat for dinner. It was becoming tiresome to eat nothing but plain venison, but Roxas was not going to complain – it was food, and his situation could have been much worse.

Roxas added to his meal by finding a solution to his need for water – he had found that a large window in one of the rooms had been shattered, leaving a gaping opening that looked out upon a courtyard far below, within the castle walls. Up at Roxas' level, there was a parapet running around the courtyard in front of the window – evidently it was accessible by doorway from another room, while windows opened to it in this room and many others. Roxas carefully broke the remaining glass from the frame and used this window as a convenient exit. He felt it a pity to put the pleasant walkways above the quaint, secluded courtyard to such a use, but Roxas was in need of a lavatory, and a dark corner in the bend of the parapet outside was better than a room indoors. He also found a way to quench his thirst, by securing a large antique vase and filling it with snow. Melted snow was not the most pleasant water to drink, and it required a vast amount of snow for very little water, but it was better than nothing.

With these tasks completed and night having fallen fully, Roxas built up the fire to last as long as possible and retired to his enormous, ancient bed. The blizzard outside still raged, yet the howling wind had continued for so long that Roxas noticed it very little now.

More troublesome were his thoughts – worries for his family, uncertainty over his own life, and a growing unsettled feeling as the master of the castle made no reappearance. It seemed as though Roxas was alone with an empty castle and the moaning winds, trapped on a mountain as if he were the last soul alive. It overwhelmed him with a cold, penetrating loneliness, a feeling totally foreign to him. He had always been surrounded with love and light and warmth in his large family and his small village. Now, he was beginning to understand the misery of being alone. It haunted his heart to think of spending centuries thus…as the King had.

Slowly, his weariness crept over his dark, sorrowful thoughts and smoothed them over with the gray haze of sleep.

~o~

"_But Nana, why must I play alone?"_

_Roxas blinked his eyes against the beams of sunlight, and gradually the nursery came into focus. The little boy with bright red hair was whining after the large woman, who seemed to be bustling about, cleaning in a hurry and trying to be free of the child._

"_There are no visiting kings or queens with little children right now, Prince Axel."_

"_Why can't Nana play with me?"_

_The woman seemed impatient; her back remained always turned to the boy, who constantly tried to hurry in front of her to see her face. "Nana is busy, my Prince. You must play alone."_

_The small face fell tragically. "But why can't the other children in the castle play with me?"_

_In a huff, the nurse turned to the young prince at last. "Your Highness," she began in a business-like tone, "you are royalty. You are the heir to this kingdom! They are the children of servants." Slightly softened by the boy's apparent distress, she bent to touch his cheek kindly. "You bear the mark of the royal family – none other has blood as noble and precious as yours. You must learn to shun such low company, Your Highness. It befits your high birth to pay them no notice."_

_With that, she would have no more talk, and quickly finished up, leaving the round room. The little Prince turned away, walking sadly toward the window. He stood before it, looking down over the castle and grounds, and Roxas could hear him whisper, "But I don't want to play alone…"_

_Roxas watched the miserable slouch of the little back, the boy leaning to press his forehead against the glass. He wanted to reach out to the boy…to touch him and hold him and comfort the lonely child. Yet his motions attracted no notice – unlike before, it seemed that the child could not see him. And, before long, the dream began to fade away, the darkness slowly eating in around the edges of the lonesome boy at the window, until blackness closed over everything at last._

~o~

When Roxas woke, the snow had finally stopped falling. The sky, however, was still an endless dark gray – Roxas had not seen the sun since before crossing the wall. And, over the gray and white world, the wind still whipped and moaned, its voice rising and falling in a strange and tuneless song.

The memory of his dream soon faded, as Roxas rose and began to repeat what had already become a morning routine. As he left the bed, he stretched, testing his muscles. He felt much better than the day before – only a bit of soreness remained when he stretched to the edge of his range of motion, and his feet, which had nearly been rubbed to blisters, were quickly becoming less tender. Another day and night, and Roxas was certain he would be back to full strength. He just wondered if his opponent would finally reappear at that time.

The first task he set himself was another fire – Roxas expected a terrible cold to have invaded the room overnight. To his surprise, the room was chilly, but not as bad as he had imagined. Reaching the hearth, he discovered that the fire was not quite out. Roxas was certain that, even with the amount of wood he had given it, the fire should not have lasted this long…and then he saw that his woodpile next to the fire was a bit lower than before. As he scraped out the ashes and rebuilt the remains of the coals into a cheerful blaze, Roxas wondered about this mystery. It could only be that someone else had come and tended his fire…perhaps the Heartless had been sent to accomplish this chore? Yet Roxas could not imagine the master of those creatures would have known to give such instructions…unless he himself had seen the need.

The notion that the King might have visited him while he slept sent a frightened chill through Roxas' body. That monster, made more terrifying in the dark…watching Roxas sleep in that silent, staring way of his, so vulnerable before him…he didn't want to continue thinking of it. Yet, at the same time, he felt a tentative thread of relief – if the King had been there, he must be all right, and safe from any strange harm. Why he was keeping away, Roxas still couldn't imagine, but then, he had never stated or even implied that he would be personally overseeing Roxas' "recovery."

Impatient with himself for worrying so much over his enemy, Roxas set about the rest of his morning routine. Afterwards, still alone, he returned to the book and spent several hours continuing to decipher the story.

At midday, he ate again. His body felt stiff from so much sitting, so he stretched for a while, experimentally trying his ability with the keyblades for practice. Feeling more active when he was done, he felt reluctant to return to the book again – the story was interesting, but making sense of the half-foreign script was causing his head to hurt.

Instead, Roxas decided to spend a little more time looking around. Again taking the candelabra for light in the gloomy halls, he set out, one keyblade in the other hand. Roxas didn't want to wander defenseless through an unknown place.

Having seen most of the rooms at his end of the hall, he moved on from those, and soon discovered many more halls branching in various directions – a veritable labyrinth of cavernous darkness. Uncertain about finding his way back, Roxas contemplated simply taking a chunk out of certain walls with his keyblade, to mark his path. This, however, went solidly against his mother's voice in his conscience, and Roxas instead devised a method of upturning the faded carpet that ran down the center of most halls, using it to indicate his direction. When there was no carpet – for it was occasionally missing, causing his footsteps to change from muffled creaks in the floor to hollow, echoing thuds – he would find some other item of décor to displace. A painting on the wall, a hanging tapestry, a suit of armor – all from an era long lost now.

As he explored, Roxas found many rooms in a similar state to those near his own. They only seemed to grow larger and more grandiose. Enormous parlors eventually gave way to the occasional ballroom, the small private libraries were eventually outshone by one so large that Roxas couldn't see the extent of it in the darkness…and then, near a foyer that resembled the one he had come in by, Roxas found what could only be the throne room, the seat of an ancient royal court.

In this room, his very breathing seemed to echo endlessly, until the entire room seemed almost to be alive in the darkness. It was quite unnerving. Far at the other end, Roxas could see the raised dais upon which the throne sat, large and ornate and empty in the dark. The walls were hung with incredible tapestries, seemingly endless in size, yet darkened by dust and time. He could make out very little of the designs on these – stylized images of men at war, men and women at court, priests and angels and demons…the faded tide of humanity fighting, living, loving, birthing, and dying on the walls of a room that had been abandoned by life for generations.

It was magnificent and it was tragic beyond words. Slowly, Roxas turned his steps away, attempting to contain the swell of sadness at the thought of the curse that had come upon this place. It should have been fear – for the room was threatening and dreadful in itself – yet Roxas had found his fear leaving him by degrees since he came to the castle, and even more so now that he was exploring it. To one who had resigned himself to confront a certain death, overpowering it if possible, leaving his life behind if not, shadows and echoes no longer seemed terrifying. Roxas knew who his enemy was. He was threatened by one thing and no longer feared the rest.

Yet the sorrow of this place was another thing – he had not grown more hardhearted toward sorrow. If anything, the threat of death had only deepened the sensitivity of his heart, making him feel more keenly. With more strength than ever before, he could feel joy in his memories of his family, and loss at the prospect of never seeing them again. And with more sympathy than before, he felt pain at the sight of tragedy…and this tour of the castle was tragic in the extreme.

Roxas found his curiosity quite reduced, suddenly. With heavy steps, he turned from the dark throne room and followed his trail of signs back to his own wing and his own room, eased in his mind somewhat by the smaller size of everything here. He turned his steps to his little exit, to relieve himself and collect more snow to melt, for he was thirsty after so much walking.

From out on the parapet, Roxas paused in the cold, biting wind, examining the courtyard below and the walls that rose around it. Sometime, if the wind would die down, he thought he might like to explore down there – there seemed to be a little fountain and some statuary, worn and ruined, but still interesting. Roxas then turned his eyes to the castle around him. He noticed that the most prominent feature was a tall, round tower – the rest of the walls seemed low in comparison. He could see other towers beyond in several directions, but this tower was right here…in fact, it seemed to spring from atop his own room.

Roxas considered this as he returned to his room and examined it – indeed, it made sense, for his room was circular, whereas most others were not. His room appeared to be the lowest room in this tower…yet he could find no doorway or entrance leading up to the rooms above. He felt sure that there must be a stairway beginning at his own level and leading up…the tower would be a massive waste of material and energy if it were empty above his room's ceiling.

Since there seemed to be no other exit from his own room, and it was clear that no other doorway in the hall opened to a stair, Roxas decided to examine the two rooms that touched his, one on either side of the hall that ended at his own door. It seemed that about one third of his wall space connected to the hall and neighboring rooms, while the other two thirds held windows that looked out, away from the castle.

In the first room Roxas examined, it was clear that no part of the wall touching his held a door, unless that door had long ago been thoroughly walled over with stone. Roxas examined the stones carefully, but found them all to be solid.

Moving to the next room, he found another bedroom, yet this one seemed to have been half a study as well, for there were several large bookshelves built into the walls…including one on the wall connecting to the tower.

Roxas was no genius when it came to solving puzzles or locating hidden traps, and he'd never attempted to open a secret door before. Fortunately for him, however, this secret door had been engineered a very long time ago, and its secret mechanism was fairly simple. In addition, all the real books on the shelf were so obviously tattered by age under the thick layer of dust that it had become easy to spot the one book that was only a model, still looking new once Roxas swiped the dust off of it. A moment of fiddling and the book tipped back in his hands like a lever, and the entire bookshelf responded by swinging outward like a perfectly normal door.

The space revealed beyond the door made the rest of the ruinous rooms look well-maintained. Dust-heavy cobwebs hung dead from walls and ceiling, and the floor was cluttered with debris. As Roxas stepped cautiously into the dark space, he could feel the crunch of dry bones under his feet – apparently all the vermin in this castle had expired long ago.

Almost immediately upon entering the dank space, Roxas was faced with a door. The heavy wooden door was fortunately unlocked, although from the looks of the antique key hole, Roxas guessed that picking the lock would not have taken too long, even for him. The door swung open with an agonized groan, allowing Roxas through. On the other side, a narrow staircase began to curve upward.

The stairs continued in a wide spiral, apparently wrapping around the tower. Doors occasionally appeared on the inside of the spiral, leading to what looked like several more round rooms, decorated for living spaces, although one was apparently a child's schoolroom. After passing this last door, the stairs continued to rise, but this time not to a door. The floor of the topmost room opened above him, and Roxas emerged from the stairwell as he rose above the level of the floor, already looking around.

It was the strangest feeling…this overwhelming sense of familiarity in this place he was sure he had never seen. The toys scattered about, the windows all around…yet for the first time, it came as a shock to see windows black with grime and dirt, and toys and furniture all but buried in dust. He should have expected the room to be every bit as ruined as the rest of the castle and yet…he felt sure it was wrong somehow. There should have been sunlight, and laughter, and things should be scattered about everywhere as if they had been left in the middle of a game only moments ago…

Instead, they were only scattered slightly – it looked as if everything had been put away carefully, then somewhat shaken from its place long ago by the ravages of time and the raging winds that even now buffeted the tower room. Roxas stepped forward, looking around in wonder, feeling as though his mind was reaching desperately for something very near, something that would explain this feeling of familiarity…

And his eye was caught by a toy that had fallen to the floor – a model knight, obscured by dust, his lance broken off and lying nearby, a testament to the knight's last fall. Roxas knelt and lifted the toy carefully, setting aside the candelabra and keyblade and wiping the dust from the painted figure. Golden candlelight shone upon the revealed colors…

And all of a sudden he remembered his dreams. He remembered this room, filled with light and a child's laughter…the child! He remembered the little red-haired boy with the brilliant green eyes…Roxas looked up. He could almost see the boy there, standing by the window sorrowfully, looking down at his future kingdom and wishing for a playmate.

…Axel. The name echoed in his mind…Prince Axel.

_It cannot be the same…it cannot even be true. My mind has conjured up dreams of its own invention…_ And yet there was the room – the familiar room and the toy knight and the name, the name he never could have invented on his own. Could it be that there was still one here who would remember that name? One who bore the same markings of the royal family…and whose eyes still shone with an impossible green, even if their expression was changed from a child's wonder and joy to a monster's hunger…?

"_You may call me 'king' or 'your highness' or 'my liege.' Those were in common use, when last I was addressed with anything other than a scream."_

"_King…what?"_

"…_Just King."_

"King Axel?" Roxas whispered cautiously into the quiet room.

~o~

After returning to his room, Roxas tried to read again to pass the rest of the afternoon, but his mind would not attend to the puzzle of language. He tried his hand at the use of his keyblades again, but the exertion of his body would not quiet his heart. He made an early start of his dinner and evening routine, including for himself the task of stockpiling more firewood, but in the empty, quiet castle it seemed that nothing could distract him from the endless circle of his thoughts.

_It is a coincidence…a case of the mind playing its strange tricks in sleep. I cannot have truly seen the monster as a child. And even if it were so, how can I let that soften me toward him? Whatever the reason, he grew to be a cold man who made many errors long ago, and is paying for them now…as a monster. And I am fated to be his next dinner… I must not let myself pity him! I must be prepared to fight for my life with all my strength. My family…_

Again, there was that deep sorrow in his heart. The loneliness for those he loved. Roxas paused in cooking his dinner, and a tentative hand crept up to his throat, brushing lightly over the metal circlet which remained there, now almost too familiar to notice anymore.

_With his clawed hand, he means to tear out my heart – as he did to this very deer – and eat it, and gain another ten years of life before he does it again, to some other innocent. Perhaps…perhaps even another from my village. And his curse…we will never be free of it. My brother and sisters will raise their children with the same warning that did not save me…Oh gods, if one of their children suffers the same fate someday…!_

Tears springing to his eyes, Roxas forced them shut tightly, shaking his head. He could not allow himself to dwell on such gloomy possibilities. He must keep up his courage! For tomorrow…

_The last of the soreness is almost gone. Tomorrow…if he does not come to me, I must go and find him. I must confront this fate, and bring an end to this waiting._

That night in his dreams, the nursery was dark, ruined with the passing of time…yet it seemed that there was no roof now, nor was the usual thick blanket of clouds in the sky, for a full moon shone over everything, making the blanket of dust over the room look almost as white as the snow that covered the land outside. And a little boy stood silently by the window the entire time, and no nanny or mother came to interrupt, and try though Roxas might, he could not reach the boy. His voice was not heard, his face was not seen, and his touch was not felt – as slow tears ran quietly down the Prince's marked, childish face, Roxas wept with frustration at his own powerlessness to save the boy.

~o~


	6. Trail of Blood

**Author's Note: **For Lauren. *hug*

I like this one. I hope y'all do too. ^_^

* * *

Chapter 6 ~ Trail of Blood

It was far too awkward to walk carrying a candelabra for necessary light as well as both his keyblades, so Roxas fashioned a strap out of a thin silk scarf and tied one keyblade diagonally at his back. He would not be able to swing it at a moment's notice, but he was not planning on needing it quite that suddenly. Still…he didn't like to be without both blades.

The blond set off into the dark halls again, now in search of his enemy.

Morning had dawned, ever gray, ever windy, but Roxas had paid no heed to the howling today. Breakfast and other preparations went as usual…and, as on the morning before, the fire had not gone out during the night, as it should have. What was more, there was the slightest wisp of a foreign scent that Roxas detected in his room this morning – the faintest metallic odor…like dried blood.

It was deeply unnerving…but Roxas shook the feeling off. He had but one concern today, and he _must focus_ – find his enemy and fight him, as he had promised. Today was the day for facing his fate.

He followed the marked trail from the day before as far as the large foyer, where he detoured to the door to verify that this was the entrance to the castle that he had first come in by. It was, unless there were other doors with identical foyers and avenues of ice leading up to them. From there, then, he chose a different route – neither the one to the throne room, nor the one toward his own wing. He headed toward unknown sections of the castle, marking the halls he ventured down so as not to waste time retracing his steps in circles unknowingly.

He opened no doors as he went – the thick layer of dust in front of them was clearly undisturbed, and unless the King could walk through walls, it seemed plain that those rooms would not hide what he sought. Instead, he pressed forward, carefully examining the ground, his senses alert, pricked for any sounds or sign of life.

After what felt like over an hour of searching, he had his first indication…but it was neither sight nor sound. It was scent.

The scent of blood. Death.

Rounding another corner and heading down another dark hall, Roxas could smell it growing stronger…until, at last, the faint glow from his candelabra lit upon a small heap lying to the side of the hall.

Roxas approached the still form carefully, and soon saw what it was. He recoiled instinctively – a wild goat lay there, obviously quite dead, torn by the Heartless as the deer had been, with a similar gaping hole in its chest. Dried blood had pooled around it, making it plain that the goat was not a fresh kill…yet the scent of blood and the beginnings of decay still lingered throughout the hall, making Roxas guess that the death was none too old either. Perhaps…perhaps a day or two.

And there – a prize for any tracker, yet a macabre sight for any human heart – was a patchy trail of blood leading away from the animal.

Roxas was able to follow the continually sparser and smaller droplets for quite a ways before they seemed to all but vanish, leaving him at an unfortunate loss just when he needed to choose which of two halls to turn down. He examined both prospects carefully and, a short way down one, he found a disturbance in the dust before one door. Bracing himself for a moment and taking a deep breath, Roxas carefully pushed the door open and extended his light into the room beyond.

It was a sitting room of sorts – another in a seemingly endless collection of dilapidated, once-magnificent rooms. And here, scattered about the floor, were several more animal carcasses. Rabbits, a deer, a wild boar – a quick examination revealed that the deer seemed to have been dead the longest, and the rest were fresher than the goat in the hall had been.

This room also boasted an unusual amount of ruin, for the exterior wall, which faced another inner courtyard, had crumbled in at one corner, leaving a gaping hole to the snowy outdoors. A drift of snow was piled inside this corner of the room, and Roxas was able to clearly make out tracks in it, as well as traces of blood.

Leaving the candelabra on a table – for its light was not needed in the gray daylight outdoors, nor would the small flames remain lit against the wind – Roxas braced himself against the cold and slipped through the gap.

The courtyard was similar in size to the one near his room, but contained no fountain or statues. There were instead a few stone benches around the perimeter and a large tree in the center, leafless and dead with the perpetual winter. Roxas took all this in quickly, examining the area for any motion; finding none, he turned his attention to the snow, following the tracks and traces of blood across the courtyard to a door in one corner.

Before entering this door, Roxas examined the outside of the building. The walls were low here – he must be near the heart of the castle. The corner that held this door rose into a very short tower, round and only tall enough for perhaps one room above the low wall. Roxas could see windows all around the tower, and he became keenly aware of just how many windows surrounding the courtyard had a view of him at the moment. He felt suddenly nervous and vulnerable, and hastened to drag open the heavy door and enter the darkness beyond.

Roxas then had to pause for several minutes. He no longer had light to carry with him through the murky depths of the castle – though he hoped it would not be needed for much longer now – and his eyes required a moment to adjust to the gloom again after the daylight, which was bright by comparison even when the sun was thoroughly hidden from sight.

As his surroundings gradually became visible, Roxas found himself in a much smaller hall that seemed to run along the border of the courtyard in one direction, while the other direction trailed away in a similar fashion around a bend. However, at the juncture of the two halls, across from the door leading out to the courtyard, there was an open stair leading up, presumably to the tower. The steps were broad at the very bottom, but soon narrowed and turned out of sight in the beginning of a spiral. The darkness in this stairwell was even blacker than the hall…yet Roxas could see at once that he must ascend it in search of the King.

On the corner of the wall that opened to the stairs was a smeared, bloody handprint.

Forcing aside a shudder of horror, Roxas faced the dark stairs and began to follow their slow spiral upward. Before long, they ended before a door – another heavy wooden structure, and it hung slightly ajar.

Holding his breath, Roxas slowly pushed the door open, wincing as the hinges shrieked in protest.

Countless candles lined the circular room, their flickering orange flames combining until it almost seemed as if the room itself were burning. Slightly off-center in this ring of fire, a dark form was curled on an antique divan.

Roxas took a careful step into the room, avoiding the candles that were placed even on the floor. "Your Highness?" He cautiously questioned in soft tones, hoping not to startle or anger the King.

The shape stirred only slightly. Roxas could see the dull glint of flickering candle flames in two gleaming eyes, but the rest of the face was in shadow. The eyes watched him silently for a moment before sliding shut and turning away. A muffled voice growled dully, "Leave me."

Unsettled even more by the King's behavior, Roxas did not know whether to step forward again or retreat. Then he remembered his errand.

"Your Highness," he tried again, "It is Roxas. I am well now, and I have come. For…for our agreement."

The response was swifter, the growl louder and more animal-like and aggressive, "I said leave me, foolish human! Go!"

He should have been afraid. This was, after all, the one terror life still held for him – this monster in front of him was his doom. Fear, however, never occurred to him. Instead, Roxas felt only impatience as he looked upon the King and heard his dismissal.

"Go? What do you mean, 'Go'?" His voice gained strength as he spoke. "Where am I to _go_, exactly, Your Highness? I cannot leave as things are, and I have come to honorably face you, only to find you sulking here, and telling me to leave? And what should I do then? Wander your empty castle in hopes that you choose to reappear before I die of starvation?"

At his last word, Roxas was surprised to hear a deep, bitter laugh rumble from the form of the King. The mirthless sound rolled into the room for some moments before it suddenly stopped, the King rising to his feet in a moment, movements so swift that Roxas jumped backwards slightly and gripped his keyblade tightly.

"How ironic to hear _you_ complaining of starvation to _me_," the King spat angrily and turned away, the flames around the divan jumping higher and hotter for a moment.

Roxas considered carefully for a moment, watching the tall back that was turned to him. When he spoke, it was slowly and hesitantly.

"I understand that you must be growing hungry…and I see that this could be the reason for the animal carcasses I saw. However, I do not understand why you are behaving this way, hiding here in the dark and sending me away. Why will you not fight me?"

There was no answer for a moment, but Roxas saw a hand raised weakly to the King's head…then, a moment later, that same clawed hand shot out, slicing sideways and tearing a long gash in the fabric of the divan. Roxas jumped slightly again, but the King made no more sudden motions, and after a moment, a low, empty voice spoke.

"You do not know…you were not here in the beginning. How long I stayed here once I realized that I had not died…once I realized there was a curse upon me. It was years…the snow never stopped, and the entire castle was buried." Seemingly in an afterthought, he added, "Since the beginning, the weather has been perfectly suited to my moods."

Softly, Roxas prompted, "Then why do you hide here now?"

Fingers curled into tight fists. "That…that _Witch!_ I…I did not know. I suspected, but I told myself that curses always had remedies…" The dead-sounding laugh broke out again, briefly. "I should have guessed that mine would be the exception. And now you have confirmed it…I will never be free. I cannot…do anything…"

Roxas didn't know what he should say…yet after a moment, he did not have to speak. The King drew a long, shuddering breath and continued.

"I thought perhaps that I might escape by putting an end to my existence. I thought…if I do not eat your heart, then it must be that I will starve and fade away. But…I have come to see already that I do not have that choice."

"Why?" Roxas stepped slowly forward, once.

"The animals…I…am already losing control. I don't even remember eating them…"

Roxas had stepped forward again as the King spoke, and now he was growing close enough to see the gaunt, pale face in profile, bronzed by the candlelight. The King truly looked terrible. His hair was matted, his features sharp – bones protruded with the prominence of withering hunger. It was a pitiable sight.

_Do not pity him…he's the enemy…he is, yet…_

And then, for the briefest moment, those green eyes slipped sideways and regarded him miserably as the King whispered.

"I do not want to eat you…"

In the same breath, Roxas felt his heart tremble in revulsion and break with sympathy. For the eyes – the luminous green eyes that looked upon him – the pupils had narrowed, becoming distinctly oval…almost vertical slits. And the teeth that the thin lips revealed when the King spoke…no longer were they merely sharp. They had grown irregular – some longer, with a light curve, and some shorter and very sharp. They looked…like the teeth of a wildcat.

The King truly was a monster. He was even beginning to look more like one. And yet, at the same moment, he was speaking words of such despair. He had left Roxas two days prior and was seeking to starve himself to death, only to put an end to an endless, hopeless existence.

The two realities warred within Roxas, his heart torn between hatred and pity. In the silence, the King turned away again and walked to one of the blackened windows, stepping over the candles in his path. And, though he surely could not see out of those filthy windows, the King stood before them, his head bowed slightly as if looking down, and his back turned to Roxas and the room.

Something in the man's bearing as he stood gazing out the window, or in his miserable posture, or perhaps in the way the shadows curled around him – there was something in that image that reminded Roxas so powerfully in that moment of his dreams. The little boy, alone, sad…and so far beyond Roxas' power to help, divided from any comfort he could have offered by status and distance and centuries…

For a moment, all Roxas could see was that little boy. His heart turned strongly toward him, all fear melting away in the face of his sympathy. Silently, Roxas slipped forward, reaching out to the wretched figure.

And he only saw the pitiful creature – he didn't see the monster. Nor did he see the rigidity in those broad shoulders; nor did he see the slight trembling that shivered the entire tall frame; nor did he see the hands with the long claws clenching into even tighter fists than before…

Nor could he see from behind the man how the dark pupils were narrowing into almost invisible slits, or how the teeth were baring, the lips peeled back in a silent snarl as the monster within fought viciously against the tired restraint of a desperate man.

No, Roxas saw none of this as he reached a gentle hand out to the King. And, at the moment his fingers lightly touched the black fabric over a taut bicep, his gentle voice whispered a long-forgotten name.

"Axel…"

Whether the touch or the sound of the name or both – it was impossible to tell what snapped that fragile thread that held the King's hand in check. Roxas never even saw the King spring to life, his arm flying into motion.

With a rabid, bestial snarl from the monster's throat, the clawed fist flew out, too fast for any eye to follow, and crashed into the side of Roxas' head.

Roxas didn't see it happen…he didn't even have time to scream or cry out. Only a slight grunt of air escaping lungs sounded as the small body was sent flying backwards, crashing to the floor with a clanging of keyblades and skidding several feet away, the very picture of a broken doll hurled across the room. Candles were sent flying as he was thrown into the thick of them, molten wax splattering everywhere, instantly searing unfeeling skin.

Roxas lay unconscious, and the flames that had not been extinguished by his impact immediately began to lick at skin and loose clothing.

For one brief yet endless moment, the narrow slits of two green animal eyes watched – they neither blinked at the sight nor broke from their crystallized, blind rage.

Then, pupils widened suddenly, swelling to spheres again as shock and horror spread over the King's face. Instantly, he leapt forward with a cry of despair, dropping to the blond's side as, with the speed of a glance, every trace of fire in the entire tower room was suddenly snuffed out by some invisible force. The blond, however, still did not move, and as soon as the danger of further burning was gone, the still-frantic King was swiftly checking the body for signs of life, his hands shaking violently. Lack of light instantly frustrated him, and some of the further-removed candles across the room sparked to life again at a sharp glare quickly sent their way. The next moment they were forgotten again, as the King turned all his attention back to the still body.

Frantic, with no idea what to do, the King bent down, pressing his fear-contorted face to the narrow chest. He listened…then gasped a sob of relief. The heart still beat, and Roxas was breathing. For a long moment, the trembling King remained there, unmoving, his face still pressed into the young man's warm bosom.

After a time, he began to examine Roxas further. There were countless small burns all over his skin. What was worse, blood streamed from the side of his head, clotting in blond hair and gluing the soft strands to the side of his head. Panicking even more at the sight – and wildly shoving aside a rising growl from within as the scent of blood filled his mind for a moment – the King blindly scooped the limp body into his arms and hurried from the tower, thinking vaguely of the room that he had given to Roxas as he hastened there, screaming for the Heartless on his way.

~o~

A torn strip of black satin was wrapped around Roxas' head, holding yet more black satin in place to staunch the flow of blood. The still-unconscious blond had been laid carefully upon his own bed. In a nearby pile, a whole assortment of household goods was haphazardly stacked – some of them may have even had a medical use. King Axel's order to the Heartless had been to raid the villages, find the home of whomever acted as doctor, and bring whatever they found there. His hope was that this would procure him a great deal of medicine…as it was, the black minions had mostly returned with pots and dishes and other common things, with a few interspersed medicines. The King knew how to use absolutely none of it.

Giving up, he had torn cloth from his own attire to clumsily bandage the bleeding head. Apart from that, he did not know how to treat the other injuries, nor did he know how to bring Roxas back to consciousness. Brought up as a pampered noble, now having lived several centuries almost as an animal, the former King was helpless to repair the hurt he had caused. He could only watch over the young man's bed, his eyes trained on the rise and fall of Roxas' chest, waiting for him to wake.

"Why are you troubling yourself over him? Just eat him; he is _dinner_." The low growl came from the red-haired monster's throat.

"No!" The King cried a moment later, his voice high and nervous.

Axel's voice dropped low again. "You will never succeed in escaping your doom this way."

The next moment it was only a gasp. "That is not the reason."

The Heartless crouched in corners listening to the familiar sound of their master speaking his thoughts aloud. In centuries of absolute seclusion, he had long ago forgotten how to keep his thoughts silent – it did not matter anyway, when there was no one to hear.

"From the first meeting…I didn't want to. No, no, no! Because I saw. I saw the fear; others would have screamed, others _did_ scream… he didn't, he didn't…"

A wordless, angry snarl broke from the thin lips, interrupting the King's speech for a moment. Then, as he spoke, his voice continued to rise and fall irregularly, almost breaking at times, and the miserable green eyes constantly flickered with a vicious light…a mad, hungry, _wild_ look.

"Stop! It was…he was different. He…his sorrow, and his gentleness…and when he talked to me, his kindness, his courage, _I can smell it!_ I can smell it in his heart…I…can…"

The wildness was overtaking the King, madness flashing in his eyes as he crept forward, violently trembling hands reaching for the loose linen shirt that Roxas had worn since leaving home. The King bent over the still form, hands clutching in the fabric as his voice endlessly muttered, "Smell it I can smell delicious his heart so good I can smell it…"

Then grief broke through the madness the next moment. "Nooooo!" The low moan seemed to tear from the deepest place in the King's broad, hollow chest as he leaned forward still further, kneeling by the bed and pressing his face against the warm chest again, burying his senses in linen and the overwhelming scent of skin.

The touch was a mistake…the gentle rhythm of Roxas' heartbeat, so close, so measured and warm, was the most tantalizing thing in the world – it held the King there, unable to pull away. His voice was heavy with misery now.

"This is why I couldn't stay long before…but I had to see you as you slept, I had to see that you were well, I could not help it…ungh…_hungry_…" The creature within whimpered desperately, and the King inhaled, long and deep, his nose pressed against skin now – his clutching claws had inadvertently torn Roxas' shirt open.

Green eyes with narrow pupils slipped shut in agony and bliss at the scent. Words were choked off by a long, intense moan as the King's lips parted, pressed as close as possible to the young man's heart, _crushing_ against his chest. A tongue darted out to brush the skin, then, unable to resist the taste, it stayed, spreading over the warm flesh slowly.

Elongated, sharp teeth rubbed their smooth sides against skin, longing to pierce the soft body, and the King's voice was a breathy pant. "Hungry…I want it…I want…want…_nnghh_. Nnnn! No…no, _no!_"

As if thrown backward by an external force, Axel hurled himself away, falling to the floor some feet from the bed, gasping, his chest heaving for air as, shaking and snarling, he struggled to force his hunger back under control.

Slowly, sanity returned, the bestial features receding slightly as the King began to look more human. However, he continued to mutter endlessly to himself, and no longer dared to go near the bed. He could not leave – an agonizing need to watch over Roxas held him in the room – nor could he approach again. He was certain his self control would not last if he did. It couldn't…not in the face of the strong allure of the scent of Roxas…of his heart…his skin…his body…

And so, Axel curled his long limbs around himself and folded into a chair across the room, by the fire. He kept the blaze going, warming the room for the injured young man, while his eyes burned intensely, fixed on the shape of Roxas breathing shallowly on the bed.

~o~


	7. Hunger

**Author's Note: **For Lauren. Totally.

A point of explanation: A few of you may have noticed, between this chapter and the last, that Axel doesn't seem at all surprised that Roxas inexplicably knows his name. He doesn't ask or anything. To anticipate your questions, I'll just explain here – in my thinking, Axel was a King. All his life, everyone always knew his name, so it just wouldn't shock him automatically like it might you or me. On the other hand, I also think that he's rational enough that he would wonder, given a minute to think about it, how Roxas happened to learn it. However, at this point he's got a lot on his half-starved-to-death mind. So, in short: no, he's not asking at this point how Roxas knows his name, and yes, that's intentional. Don't worry loves, I didn't forget. XD

And now, your attention please, oh beloved readers of mine! I have an announcement.

This fandom, which has been my constant source of enjoyment and inspiration this past year and some months, which has not only given me a chance to improve as a writer, but has allowed me to meet many wonderful, talented people, has now also given me my future roommate. Yes, come the end of this summer sometime, I shall be moving in with one of my favorite authors: **A Spot of Bother**, whom you all know and love. ^.^ We are going to have the most epic fanficcing time of our lives, and you are all welcome to envy my good fortune. XD And, if I ever get enough cash for a set of china, maybe I'll have you over for tea. XD

That is all. That you for your support, my dears! :D (Ugh, long AN, much?) XP

* * *

Chapter 7 ~ Hunger

_There was another presence in the moonlit nursery…someone moved softly behind Roxas as he watched the little boy sniffle at the window. He tried to turn, and felt a spike of fear when he found he couldn't._

_Soft steps shuffled closer; when Roxas was sure whomever it was must be right behind him, the sound of a deep, aged voice confirmed it. _

"_Do you want to save him?"_

_Roxas glanced with surprise back to the little boy, who heard nothing. The person behind him moved again, gliding up beside him until he could see a dress in his peripheral vision. It was a slightly familiar dress…although the form wearing it was much thinner than he remembered._

"_Nana?" _

_The old voice replied, "No. Nana watched over the little Prince. I only have business with the King."_

"_Axel is the King…" Roxas whispered. It wasn't really a question._

_His answer was a long pause, during which he heard the person move to sit down. He could just catch a glimpse of the woman's face as she did so…but her features blurred away from Roxas' vision. All he could see were the wrinkles of extreme age._

_At last, the voice sighed, and quietly asked again: "Do you want to save him?"_

_Roxas drew breath to reply, but a nagging doubt held him silent for a moment. Uncertainty…some vague feeling that whispered against such an answer…_

_In the intervening moment, the nursery suddenly grew darker, dimmer…it began to fade away. Soon, nothing was left but the darkness, and an aged voice whispering, "Do you want to save him?"_

~o~

As Roxas regained consciousness, the first thing that slipped into his awareness was a sound – not the familiar rise and fall of the moaning wind, but…rain? Yes…it was rain. The heavy, steady fall of an almost-pouring rain.

Slowly, Roxas began to sense other things – warm fabric around him, something soft that he was lying upon; then, as he slowly began to crack his eyes open, two more overwhelming things hit him almost at once. The first was the splitting agony in his head, and the second was a sudden rush of motion and an unfocused face hovering close over his own.

He groaned and reached for his head in misery, but his hand was arrested.

"Roxas? Roxas are you awake? Don't touch…" The blurry face was resolving itself into the familiar features of the King, though they were almost unfamiliar now, so strangely contorted with worry was his expression.

"Oww…" Roxas moaned weakly, his hand falling limp again. He felt the King's touch on his wrist remain, however. Trying to focus, Roxas looked to the man beside him. "Your Highness? What…what happened? Why are you here?"

The King went still, then withdrew a short distance. His voice, when he answered, was fumbling, almost frightened…almost childlike.

"I…struck you. Your head was bleeding; I tried to fix it but…but I don't know how. I have other things here, the Heartless brought them, but I don't know what to do…so I was just…watching." The King's voice dropped to only a whisper. "I…I'm sorry…"

Through the haze of pain, Roxas blinked and turned a surprised but pained smile to the King. Softly, he answered, "I didn't think you would know how to say that."

Doubtfully, the King edged forward a bit. "Because I hurt you…because I struck you without warning and I didn't mean to…it's just you surprised me. You touched me and said my name…I hadn't heard it in so long, I-I wasn't even sure I _had_ a name anymore…and I did something terrible…"

A vague, listless wave of Roxas' hand silenced the King. "I understand. It's all right, Your Highness. I forgive you." And Roxas meant it.

The King continued to hover, not knowing what else to say, still trying to think of what he could do. Roxas had closed his eyes again, waiting out fresh waves of pain. When they subsided slightly, he opened his eyes again and caught sight of the still-nervous King.

"Your Highness, if I could ask you for something…"

"Yes, yes!" Axel eagerly answered.

Roxas smiled weakly again. "I am thirsty. For water, I have been filling the vase by the fire with snow and melting it…"

"I will get water for you!" The King was already in motion, grabbing up the vase and hurrying out of the room. Roxas sighed. He hadn't even told the King about the broken window to exit through…although, come to think of it, if it was raining the snow might not be so plentiful now. Roxas wanted to tell the King to set out some containers to collect the rain water, but he supposed he could wait until the man came back.

By the time Axel did return, Roxas was almost dozing again – consciousness was a bit hard to cling to in the face of the pain in his head. He woke again, however, when the King reentered the room, dripping wet and carrying the vase. He also carried a jeweled goblet, which he poured some of the water into for Roxas.

"Can you help me sit?" Roxas asked uncertainly. The King seemed alarmed at the suggestion at first, but then nodded and moved forward, setting the vase and goblet aside and reaching for Roxas. The invalid felt himself lifted with extreme gentleness, the King pulling pillows forward to prop him up. Even so, the motion caused his head to throb badly, and Roxas could do little more than clutch the solid arms that held him and wait for the motion to cease.

When it did and he was able to think again, the King was offering him the goblet. "I had the Heartless find something easier to drink from…and they are collecting more water now."

Roxas sipped tentatively at the water, which tasted of open air and was bitterly cold. To his thirst, it was wonderful. After carefully drinking a little at a time, Roxas felt some of the pain alleviating, and his voice felt stronger. When he spoke – still softly, for fear of aggravating the pain in his head – he was able to form his words more steadily.

"Thank you. I will need to do something about this bandage, I think." Having had many wounds bandaged pristinely by his mother, Roxas could vaguely tell that his head had been most awkwardly wrapped. "It would be better to have hot water. If there is a cauldron somewhere, you could boil some of the water to purify it."

The King had already left the bedside, rushing away with a promise of, "I'll find something." Roxas chuckled softly. _It's not that severe…he's acting like a man whose wife is in labor with their first child._ The observation struck the injured Roxas as even funnier, largely due to how comically apt it was, and his smile broadened so far that his head began to ache again, bringing tears to his eyes. Roxas quickly calmed his amusement, assisted by the pain.

_Still I wonder…why is he caring for me thus? Why did he even bother? And why does he seem so troubled now?_ He was drifting off again, the dull throbbing in his head making him too exhausted to keep his eyes open. _He's so different…from the way he first seemed…_

~o~

The rest of that day, Roxas remained in bed, listening to the constant drumming of the cold, heavy rain. He drifted off a few times, but on the whole he was not quite tired enough to escape the pain of his injury by sleeping through the day. In addition, he also soon became aware of numerous other injuries all over his body – burns. They were not as severe as the gash in his head, yet they made up for this by making it nearly impossible to lie comfortably.

The King made every effort to provide Roxas with whatever he asked for. He was a helpless nurse, but a tender and attentive one, if a little jumpy – truly, Roxas was dumbfounded by the sudden gentleness. It was nothing like the terrifying monster who had greeted him or the indifferent King who had followed him around on his first day in the castle. Roxas seemed to see a far more human side to the King emerging, and it reminded him again and again of the little boy in his dreams.

At the same time, however, Roxas couldn't relax. There were moments – not many, but a few – when the King was merely sitting by and watching him, when Roxas would look up unexpectedly and catch a glimmer of an expression in that lean face that made his blood run cold with fear. Sharp features were still exaggerated by wasting hunger, flickers of ferocity still inhabited those green eyes…and sometimes Roxas was sure that the black pupils looked distinctly oval. And, though brief and quickly concealed, Roxas felt certain that these dangerous flashes were worse than the open display of cruelty he had seen when he first met the King.

The rain hammered against his windowpanes, occasionally sudden flashes of lightning broke the incessant gloom, and Roxas knew, deep down, that something was approaching. Something threatening.

In the meantime, however, he did what needed to be done – he was a farmer by upbringing, and his approach was practical in spite of his fears. He tended to his own wounds, the King desperately trying to provide everything Roxas asked for. He replaced the bloody bandage at his head with proper strips of linen…though not without noticing that the fabric was very like what the King wore, and there were some new, rather serious tears in the King's clothing.

Roxas looked up from the black bandage to the King's worried face, watching him tend the bloody injury. Smiling reassuringly, he said softly, "Thank you for your care." The King, as before, just looked confused and uncertain. Roxas only returned to his injury, still smiling slightly.

_He can be so strange._

With the King's help as well, Roxas managed to examine the pile of items that the Heartless had brought from the villages. There were enough household items for Roxas to set up a fair attempt at housekeeping in his room in the castle, if he wanted, which made the blond smile again at the awkward effort. There was one bed sheet, far too small for the grandiose bed he lay upon, but Roxas wanted to make the King feel better – he seemed rather distraught by the uselessness of the collection his minions had gathered – so Roxas decided aloud that he would have the sheet on his bed as soon as he could get up and about. They even found a loaf of bread, apparently snatched while cooling on a windowsill. Roxas was pleased with the addition to his diet, and made sure that the King saw his happiness.

The pile also contained many items of a medical nature, but few of them were useful to Roxas. Surgical tools were not needed, and it would have been foolish to ingest any of the mysterious, unidentifiable herbs or the contents of any of the little medicine bottles. Roxas found nothing that was clearly labeled as a pain remedy. There were a few small rolls of bandaging, which Roxas used sparingly so as to have more when he needed to change the bandage at his head. He also found a container of green salve. He tried applying a tiny amount to one of his burns to test its properties, and found that it lessened the sting a bit. Making use of the salve, Roxas began to locate and tend the worst of his burns.

Calmly attempting conversation with his newly-returned shadow, Roxas addressed the King while dabbing salve on his arms. "I had meant to keep our dueling appointment this morning, but I suppose I am to be the cause of another delay… If, that is, you are still adamant that I be at my full strength to fight you."

The King, looking crestfallen, quickly nodded, then shook his head the next moment. "You must recover of course, but it is I who is to blame for the delay now. I…injured you."

Roxas could not disagree without being dishonest, yet he did not like to see the King continuing to blame himself – it was so pitiable to see, when the grown man would suddenly look so childlike. Instead of answering, then, he ignored the comment. "Will you be staying here constantly until then, or will you be disappearing for several days in a row again?"

The confusion and uncertainty flashed over the King's face again as bright green eyes slanted away, avoiding Roxas and examining the room and the floor instead. "I will stay until you can care for yourself…but after that I should go. And…you need not come and find me. I will return in time."

Roxas frowned, displeased. He told himself he was unhappy because of the prospect of more dull days ahead, and because he did not like to trust the King that far. He told himself it was not that he wished for company, nor that he would have enjoyed the King's presence more than his absence, and certainly it was not loneliness.

"I do not like to be left here to merely wait your pleasure to decide when I shall fight for my life, Your Highness," Roxas replied, with an edge.

"Well," the King returned, bitingly, "I am the King, so my decision stands."

"You are not _my_ King…"

"Am I not?" The green eyes abruptly flashed at him in anger, a swift, boney finger coming up to point at his own face. "This is the mark of royalty throughout this land, and, if I'm not mistaken, you are a peasant from one of the villages in the valley. You may not live under my daily command anymore, but this is still _my_ kingdom, and I am still King, the last reigning heir of my family's crown, and you are my subject by birth. My decision _stands_."

As the King declared the meaning behind the marks on his face, Roxas was reminded of his dream. A voice gently speaking to a little Prince…

"_You bear the mark of the royal family – none other has blood as noble and precious as yours."_

And he could not argue with the King…with King Axel. Though he dared not attempt to use that name again. Nodding his unwilling concession, still not _quite_ resigned, he replied, "Very well. I cannot dispute that. Yet I still must wish to know _why_…"

"So that I do not attack you!" The King leapt to his feet, pacing agitatedly across the room.

Frustrated, Roxas almost laughed scornfully at the statement. "Yet you mean to do so anyway, eventually! You must eat my heart, after all!"

Spinning around to face Roxas and casting his arms out in a furious gesture, the King bellowed, "I do not _want_ to eat your heart!" The next moment he withdrew, a shaking left hand clutching his right arm close. The trembling remnants of that angry voice finished, "I do not want to."

Staring at the miserable King in surprise, Roxas heard himself ask, simply, "Why?" _Foolish question_, he thought a moment later. _When a monster says he's changed his mind about eating you, you __**agree**__, Roxas. You do not question his judgment._

The anger and confusion had drained from the King – his voice and expression now held only sorrow. "I…do not know. But I feel…that it would be better to put an end to this cursed existence, with no hope of being free."

Squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain – and indeed his head throbbed unbearably – Roxas spread his hands over his face for a moment, forcing his breathing to remain even and measured, and swallowing hard to prevent his voice from shaking.

"Then…let me go." His hands fell from his face again, and Roxas looked up to the King, eyes tired yet pleading. "You would not have to fear losing control. We could both…be free. Just let me go…release me from this," He touched the red metal circlet at his neck, the mark of death, "and I promise to go quietly and trouble you no more." His other hand clenching in the bedclothes, Roxas bent his head, his voice only a whisper. "Please."

_Please…my family…_

"I cannot." The low-spoken words drove despair into Roxas' heart. A moment later, he dared to look up at the King again, for he heard in that deep, quiet voice the same hopelessness that filled his heart.

"I…do not have power over the circlet. I do not send it or direct its choice. I think it is under the command of the Witch," His voice briefly grew stronger, growling the word, "I cannot remove it. It always vanishes when…when its purpose is fulfilled."

"When I am dead," Roxas stated flatly. Axel did not answer immediately, but paused before finishing the thought.

"Or…I suppose, if I die…if I am killed, or if I fade to nothing from starvation…I believe it would release you then." Neither could find the will to voice the black conclusion to their situation.

_One of us must die._

After a long silence, Roxas spoke again, striving to bring his tone back to normal. "So…you will stay until I can care for myself, and then you will hide away in some corner of this castle, and we must both hope that I recover soon so that we may have our duel." _To the death._ "I suppose this is accurate?"

Axel nodded, daring at last to look at Roxas again. "It must be so. I have crippled your strength by my cowardly action; you cannot fight like this." _No, I cannot __**win**__ like this…_ A realization struck Roxas. _He wants me to win…he wishes for me to kill him._ The King continued to his conclusion, "So I must go, as soon as possible."

"You really think you are likely to attack me?" Roxas asked in doubt.

For response, intense green eyes flicked to his face again, locking on bewildered blue eyes gazing back. His entire bearing grew tense and restrained, guarded. "You do not know…how hungry I am. How long it has been…it is…driving me mad."

Roxas swallowed heavily, a renewed shudder of fear threatening his composure as he attempted to maintain eye contact with the increasingly animalistic man. "But you have eaten quite a few animals' hearts, as I have seen. Even if they will not keep you alive, surely they must help a little?"

The King shook his head scornfully. "You have forgotten. I told you, it is the spirit which I consume. If the animals have a spirit at all, it is weak beyond my ability to detect it. They have done nothing for the hunger which is killing me." He took a few slow steps forward, continuing to speak darkly on the subject that was slowly eating at his mind. "For fifty years – five decades in a row – that vile _thing_ brought me little girls. They do have spirits, of course, but such weak, undeveloped spirits are…like eating sweetmeats." He looked to Roxas as he attempted to put the experience into an analogy for his understanding. "Good to the taste, yet not sustaining."

Roxas could not entirely suppress the shiver of dread he felt as the King spoke of eating innocent little girls' hearts. As the man moved closer to the bed again, he watched warily, yet at the same time, fascinated by…he hardly knew what. By…the King himself.

"On the day you arrived I was already famished for your heart, yet I thought I could wait. Days seem like nothing when you live for centuries. Yet it would seem that the hunger can overtake me more swiftly than I realized." He was beside the bed now, only a few paces from where Roxas sat, and the blond was alarmed to see an almost _glowing_ green light in those eyes…the eyes with narrowed pupils.

The King continued closer, visibly shaking. "You do not know how powerful it is, nor the strength I must use to overcome it. You do not know how maddening it is to be near you…the _scent_ of your heart is so strong…" A trembling, clawed hand stretched across the short distance toward Roxas, who was frozen in place, watching in dread and awe. "…I can smell it, even from afar…so delicious, so…so hard to resist."

Roxas felt a cold hand touch his chest, slipping easily under his awkwardly-mended, torn shirt until it came to rest over his heart, spreading across his warm skin. He shuddered, yet still could not move as the King pressed even closer, smoothly climbing…no, _gliding_ onto the bed, his advance pushing Roxas back, until the blond was almost lying down again.

And the deep voice continued through heavy, panting breaths, low, murmuring…trembling on the edge of insanity. "The strong scent of your spirit deep inside…the sound of your heartbeat, like an incessant drum beating in my mind. The rhythm of your pulse, every throb of that heart pumping your blood throughout your body, all of it as sweet as honey, carrying little threads of your spirit from your heart to every other part of you…your arms, your legs…" He lifted one of Roxas' hands and held it, spread open, in his trembling grasp. "Even these fingertips…filled with the blood that is flavored with your spirit, all deliciously bound to this heart…" The hand on Roxas' chest shook, clutched briefly, claws tearing slight scratches into the skin.

The King's eyes grew impossibly green as they stared at the sight, pupils all but vanishing into slits. The words he had been speaking melted into a low, strangled growl as Roxas gasped in fear, realizing that the King was no longer in control of the monster. Desperately, Roxas raised his free hand between them, yet he had no strength against the solid chest above him. As the King closed in, he swiftly reached higher, closing his fingers hard around that thin neck, stopping the King's progress toward his chest.

For a moment, the animal seemed to take over even more powerfully, lips peeling back from elongated fangs and green cat eyes fixing on blue, fear-filled ones as the monster snarled and pushed forward and snapped at Roxas…and then the moment was gone, realization dawned in the inhuman face, the black pupils widened again, and, as if with great effort, the King slowly drew back.

Without a word, he removed himself from the bed, slinking away until he reached the door. There he stood for a long time, silent, both occupants of the room struggling to calm their fast-paced breathing. Slowly, Roxas became aware of the outer world again, the thunder and lightning and rain and a whipping wind dashing the water against the castle.

Finally, the King spoke in his human voice again, still facing the door. "Now do you understand?" He said no more.

Roxas struggled not to gasp as he spoke. "Yes."

Without another word, the King left, the door swinging heavily shut behind him, leaving Roxas alone.

~o~


	8. A Sacrifice

**Author's Note: **For Lauren, with love.

*Johnny Depp as Willie Wonka voice* I've been longing to post this chapter for _weeks_. *crazypersonlaugh* 8D

* * *

Chapter 8 ~ A Sacrifice

Until night fell, Roxas saw no one. Neither sight nor sound intruded on him, alone in the bedroom with the wild and unpredictable storm outside. The weather was truly unnatural – the storm constantly alternated between a thunderstorm and a blizzard, creating a mix of snow and thunder and lightning such as Roxas had never seen before. He wished it would quiet a bit – the tempestuous sounds aggravated his headache a great deal.

To distract himself, Roxas tried to read. He soon gave that up as a futile effort which only worsened the pain in his head. He tried instead to return to his previous routine, yet he was only able to carry out the most necessary activities before he began to feel lightheaded. Giving up, he returned to bed, bringing bread and water with him for when he should need them.

Hoping that sleep would come soon, he lay still amongst the warm covers and tried to think. His eyes wandered again over the now-familiar room – the costly, large furniture, the ancient décor…a trunk in a corner, a coat of arms over the mantle. The stonework of the walls was done with large blocks of stone, and everything wooden was thick and dark and heavy, yet carved with immense detail. Part of the wall even displayed centuries-old mosaics, stylized and symbolic like the tapestries in the throne room. Many of the depictions were domestic in this room, and much more family-themed than those in the throne room.

He thought of when this room was in use, of the life coming and going throughout the castle, all the rooms cleaned and lived-in and echoing with voices every day. And then he thought of a terrible catastrophe coming and sweeping them all away in a moment, leaving only the King – the one around whom everything had revolved until then – abandoned and not even allowed to know why. Instead, he was left here, slowly coming to understand his curse as the decades ran their course. And slowly, the years would turn around the castle left outside the changes of time, frozen in perpetual winter. And, slower still, the now-empty rooms would collect dust and fall into disrepair, and the castle itself would begin to sag with age, but the King would remain the same. Ever young, ever strong, cold, and heartless.

And Roxas thought about Axel, the King, and his lonely fate, and he wondered about the other people who had come here before him and died, and he feared the monster that had eaten them…but he did not think of the monster when he thought of Axel. And he remembered his dreams, and the bright, smiling boy, and he felt sorrow and pity for that lonely child…but he did not think of the child when he thought of Axel Even though many things in the man's bearing often reminded Roxas of that boy…still, it was not the same.

When he thought of Axel, he remembered how awkward the pampered former ruler was around his first and only personal houseguest in centuries. How uncertain he had been around Roxas that first morning! And there was also the tragedy surrounding him – the misery and loneliness that where nearly palpable. And there were, in his memory, those flashes of arrogance that reminded Roxas of the sins the man had committed, resulting in this punishment. There was even a moment when Axel had spoken quite firmly, stepping into his role as King and delivering a kingly command.

All this, Roxas had seen in but a few encounters in just as few days. And all this he remembered with a bewildering mix of emotions – pity and tenderness and admiration and fondness and disapproval and wonder and many other things, but above all, concern. Concern for the fate of this King.

Roxas wanted Axel to be free…but he also wanted to be free himself. Not _for_ himself – for his family. Always for them. And he felt deeply torn apart, for he desired both with almost the same strength…and he knew, as he had seen today, that it was impossible to have both.

Troubled by these thoughts, by his jumbled feelings and the unsolvable dilemma, Roxas finally drifted off to sleep.

~o~

_Almost at once, moonlight and stillness bathed him again, and Roxas was no longer surprised to find himself in the nursery. As expected, there was the boy, exactly where Roxas had seen him last. But this time, he did not watch the boy long, but instead turned his attention to search the room for another presence. _

_And there, in a shadowy corner, he saw her. A tall, regal woman, thin, yet built on a large frame – not dressed in the plain gown of the Nurse, but wearing embroidered, royal robes. Roxas hesitated, wondering if this was a different person than he had expected. _

_The voice drove his doubt away. "Well? Do you want to save him?"_

_Roxas searched the shadows for her face, but couldn't see it. "Who are you?"_

_After a moment's pause, the figure replied by stepping forward into the moonlight. The silver beams illuminated her regal form, and revealed the wrinkled face and hands and snow-white hair of a woman older than Roxas could possibly guess. Apart from that, however, she was not familiar to him. _

_Her voice was deep, and, as before, filled with the croak of age. "I…am the Witch."_

_Roxas involuntarily recoiled in fear, stifling a gasp with his hand. The Witch…? _

_Instead of marking his fear or speaking further, the Witch moved forward again, elegantly seating herself on a ruinous old chair. The gesture relaxed Roxas somewhat – the tall lady was far less imposing when seated, even though her bearing was still impossibly regal for such an aged person._

"_The Witch?" He finally asked. "You are the one who cursed Axel…I mean, the King?"_

_For reply, a withered, boney hand waved him toward another chair nearby. "Come. Sit." And Roxas felt himself compelled by some invisible force to do so. The similarity to the spells he had felt the King cast was unsettling._

"_Yes, I cursed King Axel," the Witch spoke calmly. "He deserved it." As if that settled the matter, she said no more. _

_Roxas could hardly argue. From what he had learned of Axel's behavior during his mortal life, he was forced to agree that the arrogant King had deserved some punishment. Perhaps not quite so severe though… Instead of speaking this, however, he spoke to the Witch's earlier question. "If you are the one that cursed him, and gave him no hope of ever breaking the curse, why do you ask me now if I want to save him? Surely, there is no way?"_

"_Hm." The proud old woman looked at him directly, and spoke in a direct, businesslike tone. "There is a way. However, it does not rest entirely with him, which is why his freedom has always been beyond his grasp."_

"_Yet you never told him. Could you not at least have let him know what he was cursed with, and given him the knowledge of his means of freedom?"_

_The Witch seemed unimpressed with the idea. "Perhaps, but I did not at the time. I left him to his punishment, and thought no more about him for many centuries." Her dark eyes fixed on him suddenly, piercing and sharp, seeming to read the thoughts in his head as if they were written on a page of a book. "You wish to know why I am bothering now. Well." She exhaled slightly, becoming a bit more relaxed. "As you see, I am very old. I am of a magical bloodline and so I may live many years, but I am also part human, and therefore mortal. Now mind," she addressed him in almost a chastising tone, "I am not so old that I am on my deathbed. I have only come to the age when I begin to look back at what I shall leave behind me in this life."_

_Roxas simply listened, taking in the details as the Witch spoke. "You see, when I left King Axel under the curse, I banished him from my young mind and went on to make a much better marriage to a richer, more powerful king. I became a very powerful Queen as well, and so I have not harbored bitterness toward King Axel for some time. I also eventually learned to love my husband to a certain degree, which was a pleasant lesson. Now, I have released my crown to my descendants, so I have far less to do, and I have been reminded of this miserable creature I cursed so long ago."_

_Finally, the old storyteller turned to face Roxas directly, her reminiscing coming to its point. "That is why I have now taken an interest in his situation. I think he has suffered well and learned a little, and I am willing to reveal how he may be free. And so I ask you if you wish to save him."_

_Attempting to realize the meaning of her words, Roxas was only able to answer directly to the last statement. "I…I wish for us both to be free. Yet what if I fail?"_

_To his surprise, the Witch waved her hand carelessly at the idea. "No matter. If you die, I can always come again in ten years and try with the next sacrifice; I have that much time at least. And if he dies…well, it will be unfortunate, but I will probably not be too upset."_

_Slightly shocked by her cruelty, Roxas only stared at the Witch wide-eyed for a moment. "Come?" He finally asked, weakly. "Do you mean you are really here?"_

_Matter-of-factly, she shook her head. "Of course not. I am in my own palace; I would not come __**here**__. But I am truly speaking to you through your dreams…which are true, by the by. I thought it would help you see past the monster he has become." Her tone indicated that she was revealing a truly generous thing that she had done._

_Roxas' voice was lowered. "Yet it is not the same…he may have been the little Prince once, but that is not the one before me now."_

"_Well," the Witch replied testily, "If you need to see him as he was as an adult to get a better notion of who you are asked to save, I can show you dreams of that too. It would not help you, though." She pointed a gnarly finger toward the window, and Roxas followed her gesture to see there, not the little Prince, but the full-grown King standing in the same attitude, miserable and alone and looking down over the snow. _

"_You have seen all you needed to see; you can already look beyond the monster. There is little purpose in showing you his adult years – you already know he was not a good man."_

"_Yet…he was a good King, wasn't he? I heard that he ruled well, at least."_

_Thoughtful a moment, the Witch considered before answering. "True. I knew enough of politics even then to know that he was a strong and good leader, and his kingdom flourished. It was what made him a desirable match. However, as a man, his character was deeply flawed."_

_Eyes fixed on the melancholy figure, Roxas answered firmly, "He may never have been a good man in his life…but there is still good in him, and he has suffered enough. He deserves his freedom now."_

_The old voice softened slightly. "Then…do you wish to save him?"_

_Roxas looked back at the Witch momentarily, before turning again to look at Axel. His answer was soft, yet steady. "If it is within my power…I do."_

_The Witch regarded him approvingly. He could sense more than see her nodding at him; his eyes were still on Axel. "Then," she spoke more tenderly than she yet had, "you must love him."_

_Startled, Roxas was in the very act of turning back to her, the shocked question on his lips, "__**Love**__ him?" And in that moment, everything vanished without warning._

~o~

Roxas opened his eyes with a start, woken suddenly by a sound in his room. He half sat up in bed, casting his eyes about quickly, looking for the source of the noise while still somewhat disoriented at the sudden change in scenery. Instead of the silvery nursery he was surrounded by darkness, no moonlight filtering through the windows. Only the firelight from the low-burning coals in the hearth cast the faintest red glow, barely illuminating the room.

And, as his eyes searched the darkness, Roxas at last located a large black shape halfway between the door and his bedside. He focused on it, and saw that it was slowly creeping toward him. The faintest burnished glow touched the edges of the figure, and Roxas recognized the King, tiny flickers of light reflected in eyes that were fixed on him, silent.

His stomach felt like a rock. "Your Highness?" He spoke questioningly, but no sound of response came from the King, who continued to approach, staring at him. Roxas felt his blood run ice cold, the sight terrifying him to the core. _Keyblades…_ They were over by the fire. Not within reach. _Oh God…_

Desperation fueled his voice as the man drew closer, and in a panic he cried out commandingly, "_Axel!_"

And the King froze. A low, bestial growl started in his throat as the figure recoiled slightly…and then the growl faded, became a whimper in the darkness, then took on a more human sound – a low, miserable moan. When the King spoke from the black shadows after some moments, it was in a more natural voice.

"Roxas…I'm sorry…I don't remember how…"

Already weak with relief almost to the point of falling back on his bed, Roxas interrupted. "Your Highness…since you're here, perhaps you could help me." The King's heartbroken apology died on his lips. As Roxas had hoped and suspected, the opportunity to make himself useful and atone for his action caught the King's attention. "Perhaps," Roxas continued, "You could build up the fire a bit for me. I had not the strength to do much with it earlier, and now it is about to go out."

A relieved sigh in the darkness. "Yes…I can do that." And the King quickly tuned to begin building up the fire with fresh wood. The light grew stronger, and candles began to jump to life around the room. Roxas was able to see by the golden light, and he watched the King busying himself at the fireplace.

"_You must love him…"_ Roxas hardly knew what to think of such an idea. What could he answer such a suggestion with? Would he even have a chance to speak to the Witch again? Surely, there must be some explanation; she could not mean…_love_ King Axel. Roxas could not fathom the idea, not with his heart still racing in his chest and a cold sweat of fear still drying on his skin. Not with the vision still burned into his mind of that deadly animal in the shape of a man, approaching him in the dark. It was too much for his heart to handle, and he shuddered away from the idea in dread.

The King at last finished with the fire, yet he remained there, hovering on the other side of the room. Eventually, he edged over to a chair and sat down, all the while darting glances at Roxas. The blond could see that King Axel wanted to speak, so he broke the silence.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

The words seemed to unleash an unhappy flood from the King. "I'm truly sorry about before, Roxas, I did not mean to come here, I meant to stay away, I promise! Yet I tried to find some rest and the next thing I knew you were in front of me and I cannot remember coming here at all…and I might have…no, I _would_ have hurt you, I know it. I'm sorry…sorry…" And, running out of words, the King curled up on the chair, burying his head in his arms and knees, the very picture of a crying child. Roxas felt his body begin to unclench, relaxing as the threatening figure in his mind faded, replaced by this pathetic man before him.

And Roxas felt his heart go out to Axel, not for the child he had been, and in spite of the monster he sometimes became. And it was such a hard feeling to bear, such a grief-stricken, _intense_ longing…Roxas did not know what it meant. All he knew was that he wished for Axel to be free. Free from this curse, from the monster inside that he so clearly hated.

Roxas still didn't know about loving him, but he wanted very much to help.

Carefully, he moved the blankets away and slowly climbed from the bed, the cold wooden floor making itself felt even through his stockings. He cast about a moment for his shirt – he had taken off the torn garment to sleep, and couldn't remember where he had placed it. Not finding it at once in the dim room, he instead pulled a light blanket from the bed to wrap around his upper body and ward off the chill that lingered on this side of the room.

Stepping softly, clutching the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest, he approached the huddled figure of the King. When he was within a few paces of the hearth, already feeling the radiating heat from the fire rapidly warming this side of the room, the King suddenly looked up. Roxas had not made a sound, yet nervous, almost frightened eyes looked straight at him, and a defensive voice quickly whispered, "Stop."

He did, standing in the ring of firelight and regarding the other calmly. After a moment, King Axel continued breathlessly, almost begging, "Why? If you come any closer…just…stop. Stay away."

"I want to help you…" Roxas gently began, but the King cut him off.

"Then do not come near me! I will…lose control again…" And mingled in the misery in his voice was a tremor of self-loathing as he admitted his lack of control over his own hunger.

Remaining where he was, Roxas nevertheless pressed the discussion. "Yet there must be some way…some means to alleviate your hunger, even a little. You had control of it a few days ago…is there now nothing at all save my own death that can ease your suffering?"

Muttering, Axel scoffed, "Your death would certainly _not_ ease my suffering…"

"I mean," Roxas insisted, "Is the only help for you to eat my heart completely, or is there anything else…_anything_…that could ease your hunger a bit and sustain you a little longer?"

Axel glanced at Roxas with a deep frown, then his eyes darted over to the fire and lingered there, glaring darkly into the hot flames. His answer came at length, a grudging tone of admission in the explanation he gave.

"Every part of your body contains some small part of your spirit; it is how a human is made to be who they are. It is centered in the heart, and only the heart contains enough to sustain me for ten more cursed years." He spat the words as if they were distasteful, then his tone became suddenly biting, laden with sarcasm as he concluded, "But no, I suppose you're right. I could get my mind back for a few days if I ate an arm or a leg…or perhaps your right hand or your left would be enough. That would most _excellently _suit the purpose of our duel. You'd be in _fine_ shape to fight _then_."

Stepping a pace closer, Roxas shot back, "And what of you? You are hardly in any fit condition for a duel even _now_, let alone a few _days_ from now. Your Highness, even in this light I can _see_ how thin you have become; you cannot have much strength!"

Refusing to look at Roxas, the King answered toward the fire, "We agreed to wait for _you_; my condition does not matter."

Though he had already realized the King's desire to be killed, such blatant unfairness was too much for Roxas to accept. Angered by the suggestion, as well as the underlying implication that the King still hoped to be slain, Roxas stepped further into the firelight, drawing Axel's green eyes up to him. "You expect me to accept that? That is an unfair fight which you suggest, and on my honor I'll not fight on those terms!"

Roxas' tenacity and threat seemed to penetrate the King's stubbornness, and he finally turned a listening and attentive ear to the blond, replying with thought instead of dismissal.

"Then…what? You cannot truly want me to eat part of you, like some were-beast from the Black Forest of legend, or drink your blood like a vampyre from dark, distant Transylvania?"

Forcing himself to betray no tremor of fear, Roxas stepped forward again, his face serious, and stood directly before the seated King. He spoke softly, but with unwavering determination. "I do not know what those things are, Your Highness…I think you have heard more distant legends than reach us in the valley in these days. But I cannot stand by and watch as you grow weak and lose your mind and yourself to a thing like _hunger_."

Roxas watched the pale face that watched him, the green eyes wide with amazement and the pupils narrowed slightly from the effect of Roxas' nearness. And, to his surprise, he was no longer afraid. So, taking a deep breath, he slowly lowered himself to his knees before Axel and looked up, feeling pity in his heart as he saw torment and struggle rising in the man's expression.

Relaxing his arms and lowering the blanket – though his hands still clenched involuntarily around the fabric as they held it away from his body – Roxas met the King's eyes and concluded his answer.

"For what you need…I am willing."

Axel's hands reached for him and stopped, shaking, an animal-like whimper escaping him through his strain. "I…may not be able to stop…before…"

Roxas held the green cat eyes, repeating softly, "I am willing."

Axel made no answer – he could not. Roxas watched calmly as the man with the eyes of an animal and the claws of a hunter and the fangs of a wild beast leaned forward slowly, bent over him. Ice cold, trembling hands met the warm skin of his chest above his heart, then traced upward to his neck. They touched the metal circlet there and moved away again, quicker now, over Roxas' shoulders, suddenly gripping tightly around his lean, muscled upper arms.

The King's growl was very low, and not at all the sound of rage and madness that it had been. It was a growl of despair, released as the starving King quickly sprang forward from the chair, his own knees hitting the floor at the same moment that his long, sharp teeth buried themselves in the flesh at the juncture of Roxas' neck and left shoulder.

Roxas clenched his teeth against a cry of pain as the longer fangs sank deep into his flesh, and as the King paused there a moment, Roxas' eyes squeezed shut as he fought to bear the suffering. He felt the burning heat of the fire on his skin and he heard a miserable whimper from the creature whose teeth were buried in him. He felt the fear rise up again, but he forced it aside and concentrated on the image he held in his mind – the hopeless, cursed man who longed to be free.

Roxas cried out again as Axel's teeth tore mercilessly away, leaving a gaping wound which the red-haired man immediately returned to, greedy lips sealing over the place and sucking hard, beginning to draw a slow stream of blood from Roxas' body. And, for a tortured moment, the unfamiliar hurt of having his blood drained from him was all Roxas could feel.

And then…he felt something more. It took a moment for him to realize what he was feeling, for he had to concentrate on the tiny tendril of sensation, pushing past the throbbing agony to feel what it was. At last, he realized what it reminded him of.

"_Your blood…all of it as sweet as honey, carrying little threads of your spirit from your heart…"_

Axel had told him that…and all of a sudden, Roxas was sure he could _feel_ those threads, the tiny strands of his own spirit flowing out of him and into Axel, who needed them for his very survival. He felt the strange, tingly sensation of something immaterial going out of him, carried by the stream of his blood, and the wonder of the feeling – so totally unexpected – made him gasp, surprised.

He focused on that feeling, soon forgetting the pain, and Roxas began to relax, his hands releasing the blanket and letting it fall. The sensation of being able to feel his own spirit was almost…pleasurable. At the very least, the relief he felt as he knew for certain that this was working was so strong that it brought tears to Roxas' eyes, and they trickled back from the corners as the blond, already leaning back under Axel's assault, slowly relaxed his entire body in the man's grasp. And Axel lowered him carefully to the floor even as he continued to drink, until Roxas felt the rough wood against his back and the breathing man bridged over him swallowing heavily again and again.

For a long time that felt like an even longer eternity, Roxas lay on the floor and traced the strange sensation of Axel drawing his spirit out of him. And, though he could not feel it in a _tangible_ way, he was vaguely aware that he could still _sense_ those fragments of himself, even after they had left him. He felt as if, in a tiny way, he went into Axel, and the part of him that Axel held was slowly knit into Axel himself…until Roxas felt as if a piece of his being had been woven together with the red-haired man's being, creating something entirely new – a bond that was both of them and neither of them all at once. And, somehow…this strange feeling brought him joy.

In his own lack of awareness of himself, Roxas nearly didn't notice how weak he was becoming. Fortunately, a particularly strong throb of pain brought him back to the physical world somewhat, and Roxas quickly became aware that Axel had drunk a great deal of his blood.

_I have to stop him…he may not be able to…and if he continues…I will die._

Yet strangely, Roxas did not panic. Instead, he summoned the strength he had left and weakly raised his arms, laying them gently about Axel's shoulders. Then, lowering his head slightly, he spoke in a breathily weak, tender voice, directly above the man's ear.

"Axel."

At the sound of his name, the man suddenly released Roxas with a gasp, mouth pulling away from the bloody wound. He was just far enough away now for Roxas to see his face, and the blond could see tears running in numerous tracks down those pale, marked cheeks.

Carefully, he moved a hand from Axel's shoulders, brushing the tears away. He felt extremely lightheaded and exhausted – he was sure he was too weak to move – but the pain was only a dull ache. Much of his body was numb.

"Roxas… Roxas…Roxas…" Axel was gasping, the tears still falling. _I have never seen tears in these eyes before…_ Roxas mused, noticing that the pupils were perfectly round. Through parted lips he could also see the completely normal, rounded, not even slightly sharp teeth…in the mouth stained with his own blood. The sight reminded Roxas…

"Axel…can you…stop the bleeding? The blanket…" Weakly, he tried to explain, tried to gesture, but he could manage no more. Fortunately, Axel understood, quickly grabbing up the nearest corner of blanket and carefully but firmly pressing it over the wound to stop the bleeding. Roxas tried to smile reassuringly, letting him know he was doing alright.

"Thank you…now…I think you may need to…carry me back to the bed…" Axel nodded, his intensely concerned gaze focused on Roxas' wearily drooping eyes.

Roxas felt strong arms carefully slide under him as Axel scooped him up gently, trying to gather as much of the blanket as possible with him. When he was lifted, the sensation combined with his dizziness to make him feel weightless for a moment. Yet Roxas never felt afraid, trusting himself to Axel, being carried across the room and tenderly laid in bed. He felt the man gathering the blankets around him, even as he felt tiny droplets of water falling upon his chest as Axel continued to weep silently.

Somehow, Roxas knew that Axel would stay with him this time, and that the man would be there when he woke up…and the knowledge was a great comfort. Yet before he could succumb to his exhaustion and sleep, he heard the tiny, broken voice beside his bed – "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…sorry…"

Roxas wanted to reach out to him, but found that his hand was already clasped in two warm ones, so instead, he merely squeezed back with a comforting pressure.

"Axel…I'm fine. I'll sleep…and you'll see, everything will be all right soon. And you are better…you have nothing to apologize for. And even if you did…it would already be forgiven…"

And Roxas passed into unconsciousness and, sometime later, from there into a deep sleep. But Axel remained at his bedside for hours, clutching Roxas' hand as if it would kill him to let go.

~o~


	9. The Bond

**Author's Note: **For Lauren, ad infinitum.

I have entirely too many writing projects going on at the moment. It's utterly insane.

I thrive on insanity. 8D

* * *

Chapter 9 ~ The Bond

_The nursery was empty. No child, no Witch. Roxas was lying on the floor in the center of the roofless room, staring up at a star-encrusted sky. He hadn't seen the stars since coming to the castle, and they reminded him of home – of the bright night sky over the farmers' fields. It was spring there now, but here the stars shone with winter brightness, crystalline points of light in the darkness. _

_The last time Roxas had looked at the sky like this, he and Sora had been in their yard, finishing up some chore, and had paused before going back in to take in the stunning sight of the sky. And then they had gone in to the warm fire and the lamplight and their mother humming an old lullaby._

_He could almost hear her beautiful voice in the slow, drifting wind…and it seemed that the stars were singing the tune now, humming faintly, in tune with his mother in his memory._

"_Well, that was an inconvenient interruption." An impatient voice broke in on Roxas' dreamy reverie. Startled, the blond lifted himself to face the Witch, seated precisely as she was the last time he saw her._

"_Interruption?" Roxas questioned, surprised again as he discovered he had the strength to stand easily. "You mean when I was awake just now?"_

_The old woman just raised a thin eyebrow at him. "Naturally. I was explaining something to you. As a queen, I am not accustomed to interruptions when I am speaking."_

"_I'm sorry," Roxas apologized, "But Axel was very unwell…" A slight smile tugged at his lips. "We can continue, I think it's fine now."_

"_Indeed it is," the Witch replied matter-of-factly. "An interesting course of action too, I must say." Roxas felt himself flushing slightly as her speech made it apparent that she had been privy to the scene…perhaps even watching. "Well," the Witch brushed past the matter, "back to what I was telling you."_

"_Yes," Roxas swallowed. "You told me…to love him."_

"_Exactly so."_

_Hastily, Roxas contradicted the idea. "But what can you mean by that? Surely you cannot mean…__**love**__? Like…courtly love?"_

"_That is precisely what I mean; why else should I invoke such a word?" Her tone was slightly offended. Roxas tried to placate her in his tone, yet still could not believe what he heard._

"_How am I meant to feel such a thing? I barely know him, and half of the short time I have spent with him, he has been a terrifying monster!"_

"_Yet he is __**not**__ the same as that monster, as you already know. You see who he truly is very clearly; otherwise you would not care for him so…or sacrifice yourself to help him." She gave him a meaningful look, and Roxas felt himself flush heavily again, without being sure why he reacted in such a way._

_Timidly, he still resisted. "I do not know how to make myself love him…"_

_Frankly, the Witch answered, "You cannot." _

_Roxas looked up, startled. "But you told me to…"_

"_But whether you do love him or not is not something you can force. I have told you that you must love him to set him free; that is only the prerequisite fact, not the final end for which you must strive." She sighed slightly. "Simply put, I am not telling you to make yourself love him, thus freeing him. I am telling you that in order to do what must be done, you must first be in love with him, which is in no one's power to force. That is why his salvation has always been so entirely beyond him, and may even now be unattainable. But the fact remains – first, you must love him with all your heart."_

_Roxas was almost speechless, tears of frustration stinging his eyes and struggling to break free. "You must be mistaken," he choked out in a whisper. "Perhaps you cannot see – I am a __**man**__. So is Axel."_

_The Witch met his eyes, leaning forward, and replied gently but firmly. "The human heart has no gender. Your body may, but your heart creates the miracle of love in the same way, regardless of the exterior. And it is your heart that can set him free."_

_Roxas felt a few tears slip free, but he was helpless to stop them. It was hard enough to bring his voice under control to speak again._

"_What must I do?"_

_Leaning back, the Witch nodded. "First, as I said, you must love him. Then, if you find that you do feel thus, you must give him your heart." _

_Roxas blinked at her, incomprehension on his features. The Witch sighed again and continued to explain._

"_The curse is really quite apt, if I do say so. He has been condemned to survive as a heartless beast by forcefully taking, keeping, and consuming the hearts of those brought to him, even as he did in his life, though not in a literal way. Then, he was a heartless monster in spirit, and his behavior was the same too, for he stole hearts greedily and consumed their owners without a thought." Seeing Roxas becoming troubled at the harsh descriptions, the Witch considerately altered her course of explanation. _

"_Thus, a stolen heart greedily consumed will prolong his existence for ten years. But a heart freely given to him can end the curse completely." The slightest smirk ghosted over the ancient, withered face. "He would be furious to know that he has been eating his own freedom for centuries."_

"_He has?" Roxas asked weakly, feeling ill._

"_Well, in a sense," the Witch conceded. "Though in many cases the owners of those hearts were not truly capable of giving them to him, so no, he could not have been saved at such a time anyway. The only way is for the sacrifice to freely offer him their heart, surrendering it to him in love. And this is where his freedom is even more uncertain – he cannot cling to the heart he is given, but must give it back again. When he willingly relinquishes what he has always selfishly taken, the curse will dissolve. The difficulty is whether he will do that on his own…for you will not be able to instruct him. If you tell him what to do, it will taint his motives with the desire for freedom, and the magic will not work."_

_Roxas felt as if all hope had left him at this revelation. Surely – even if he could somehow come to love Axel…even if he found a way to give his heart to the man – he truly doubted if Axel would be able to respond correctly and break the curse. _

"_How…how am I to save him, then?"_

"_Truthfully, you cannot do it alone. All you can do is love him enough to give him your heart. The rest is up to him."_

"_What if…he does not give it back?" His voice trembled miserably._

_The Witch remained impassive. "You'll die. And he will live ten more years the same."_

_Inhaling deeply to attempt to calm himself, Roxas faced the Witch again. "So, are you saying…I should just rip out my heart and hand it to him, and hope he decides to put it __**back**__ in my chest, rather than swallowing it?"_

_The Witch looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Good goddesses, no! What a revolting suggestion! How should you manage that, anyway? You'd die immediately, even if it __**were**__ returned to you!"_

_Confused almost to exasperation, Roxas flung back, "Then what? What am I to __**do**__? How does one give their heart away?"_

_The Witch was silent a moment, seeming to ponder. "Well…the main point is for you to clearly intend to surrender your heart…and in order for the King's response to affect his curse, he must understand what you have done and consciously choose his own course of action. Apart from that…well, I suppose it is up to you. There are many ways in this wide world to give one's heart away; it often depends entirely on the people involved. So I don't think I can instruct you there – you must act in the way that you choose to convey your meaning. Provided, of course, it even comes to that." Her gaze was firm on Roxas again. "Remember – you must love him first. You cannot give him your heart out of pity, or a charitable desire to free him. You must give it in love."_

_Bewildered, Roxas could only ask, "Why in love?"_

_The Witch's reply was prompt. "Because it was for a lack of love that he was cursed in the first place. The logic of magic dictates that the opposite provide the remedy. Magic is very straightforward like that, for all the mysteries and spells and such. I find it a most fulfilling pursuit." She smiled smugly, to Roxas' amazement._

"_I…see." He could only stammer._

"_Yes? Well then," she answered, suddenly bright and brisk, "there should be no more need of me. I'll keep watch over your progress, but I have hope that I'll not need to speak to you again. Farewell then."_

_And, before Roxas could draw breath to hold her back – there were still so many unanswered questions swirling in his mind – she simply ceased to be there. A moment later, the empty nursery grew dark and began to recede, and the dream ended as darkness closed over him, returning Roxas to dreamless sleep. _

~o~

The gray daylight was already at its brightest when Roxas finally opened his eyes again. Consciousness came lazily and slow to his depleted body, his mind reluctant to put forth the effort of waking. Yet wake he did, at long last, slowly peeling his eyes open one after the other, immediately regretting the action as the cloud-obscured daylight upset his spinning head. Yet, even though his eyes were only open a moment before he shut them against the light again, there was an immediate response of movement from beside his bed.

A soft, tentative voice murmured inquisitively, "Roxas?"

The sound of Axel's voice, immediately familiar to Roxas, caused his heart to thud heavily for a few moments. This in turn sent his head spinning again, and for a moment the blond could only breathe slowly, eyes closed, and wait for the sickening sensation to still. When it finally did, and his regular senses began to return, Roxas' first effort was to force a whispered response out.

"Axel."

The next moment, all his senses were claimed by Axel. He felt warm hands clutching his own, and a heavy pressure against his chest – Axel had buried his face against Roxas' bosom. He breathed in and was flooded by the man's scent; at the same time, he could hear his name spoken over and over, muffled by the blankets over his body. Carefully peeling his eyes open again, one at a time, his vision was completely filled by Axel's endless, bright red hair.

Lastly and most faintly of all, Roxas was aware of a strange, indefinable feeling…a flicker on the edge of his awareness. He sought to focus on it, but he didn't know how – it seemed to be nothing his mind or senses could grasp, for it always drifted away again when he thought he had nearly touched it.

Roxas gave up for the moment, his attention instead drawn back to Axel, who had lifted his head to gaze into Roxas' weary face. The concern engraved in his face was echoed in his voice, green eyes searching Roxas' nearly-closed blue ones.

"I feared you would never wake. I'm so sorry for…for hurting you and…are you all right? How do you feel?"

Roxas felt his lips stretch slightly in a weak smile, relaxing contentedly simply because Axel was _there_. Swallowing, he forced his voice out again.

"Tired. And…I already told you…there is nothing to apologize for. So…" He swallowed again, his throat uncomfortably dry, "is there…any water?"

"Water! Yes…right here." Axel's quick movements soon produced the ornate goblet, filled with rainwater, which he carefully lifted to Roxas' lips, helping the blond to drink. The cold liquid was soothing to his throat, and Roxas drank deeply for a long moment. When he finally drew away again, he sighed.

"Thank you. Now…if you don't mind, I am afraid I need more sleep. I am…so tired." A murmur of agreement reached his ears, but Roxas was more aware of the warm hands holding his again. His smile returned.

"You are…so warm now. Your touch…was always cold before…"

Darkness closed over him again before he could hear Axel's response, yet Roxas didn't mind. He slipped contentedly back into sleep, his mind and spirit eased by something he still couldn't name.

~o~

Throughout the day, Roxas slept lightly, occasionally waking for brief periods of time, always finding Axel nearby, attentive and ready to supply water. The redhead continued to appear deeply worried, and Roxas could only affectionately wish that he could remain conscious longer to set Axel's mind at ease. However, there was little he could do – he was far too weak for much interaction, and could only softly reassure Axel that he was well before slipping into a doze again.

By evening, he had regained a little strength and was able, with Axel's assistance, to sit up. Roxas called upon his meager kitchen knowledge to direct Axel in how to make venison broth over the fire. Of course, the result was only heated rainwater thinly flavored with the boiled meat, but it was warm and tasted well enough, and Roxas could not summon the strength to eat solid food, so he made do.

Axel seemed greatly relieved by these indications of Roxas' improvement. He continued to watch the blond almost constantly, in a way that would have unnerved and frightened Roxas once, but now almost comforted him more, knowing that Axel was watching over him. And the tingling, indefinable sensation continued to hover on the edge of the blond's consciousness, sometimes strong and sometimes weaker, but always there, just out of reach.

Axel's voice recalled him to the moment as Roxas had begun to drift off again. "You look…better, I think. You are not so pale now."

Roxas smiled kindly. "I feel a bit better. I told you it would be fine. And you…you look much better than before, but how are you feeling?"

Axel seemed slightly embarrassed to have his own health inquired after when Roxas' condition was obviously so much worse. "I am feeling better than I have since before you came." His tone sounded almost like a guilty confession. For a moment, his eyes were cast down, avoiding Roxas' gaze.

In that brief space of time, the strange, intangible feeling that had been hovering through Roxas' consciousness became suddenly stronger for a moment, and yet it still wavered just outside Roxas' comprehension. Becoming accustomed to the odd sensation, the blond reminded himself that he probably would not succeed in grasping it this time either, and turned his attention from the sensation back to Axel. The bowed head, the familiar black-clad form…and as he focused on Axel, the strange sensation grew clearer, and Roxas found himself inexplicably more aware of it.

Startled, he turned his attention back a moment, only to feel it fade again. Experimentally, then, he returned his gaze and his thoughts to Axel. He examined the man at his bedside; in a moment, all else slipped away. Without realizing it, he had placed his heart in his eyes as he regarded Axel, and as soon as he did the feeling became clear. He knew what it was.

It was their bond.

It was neither Axel nor Roxas; it was neither within him nor outside of him; it was barely discernable yet undeniable – it was a deep sense of being connected to the person in front of him, and it made Roxas catch his breath for a moment. He had never felt anything like it. He wondered, briefly, if Axel could feel it too. Regardless, he realized, he now simply had to save Axel. They were connected…it was impossible for Roxas to even think of killing him now.

_Yet how…how?_ The question echoed again, still fresh in his mind. The Witch had given the most unsatisfactory answer imaginable to this very question, and it was what Roxas needed to know most desperately.

_I have never been in love…how can I love him? And how will I know? And…what must I do? _He wished he had some experience perhaps…something to draw upon, to help him understand matters of love…to supply him with a means to calculate if the whole thing were even _possible_. Yet there was nothing in his own life…nothing…

Lifting his head and noticing the blond's troubled look, Axel ventured softly, "Roxas?"

The word recalled him to the present and Roxas glanced over to meet a worried green gaze. "I'm…I'm all right, Axel. And I'm glad you are better. And…I thank you for your care. I think that I will soon regain my strength, and I hope you will continue to be well at least that long."

Brows creasing slightly, the red-haired man looked uncertain. "I have no idea how long…but I hope, like you, that it will last."

Roxas was silent, unwilling to speak the thought in both their minds: _If it doesn't…_ Instead, he leaned back on the bed, relaxing his weary body again. The rain fell, softly and steadily, splashing occasionally against the window; there was little if any wind. Something Axel had said once – it seemed so long ago already – sparked a question in Roxas' mind. Sleepily, he murmured it to the man who remained nearby.

"Do you really control the weather here to suit your mood?"

Axel seemed surprised for a moment, then thoughtful. "I don't…I don't _control _it," he answered. "I have only noticed that, since the curse, it has always followed whatever humor I was in with extreme precision. But that took long years to realize, since there has been nothing but snow for centuries."

Drifting off to sleep again, Roxas sighed. "I hope," he gently responded, "that rain is better than snow. Still…I would love to see even a little sunlight. You should…try to be happy."

Axel opened his mouth to voice his confused, uncomprehending answer, but he closed it again the next moment, rather choosing to settle himself watchfully beside Roxas' bed again. The blond was asleep.

~o~

When the next dawn came and Roxas woke again, feeling far less lightheaded and quite a bit stronger, his first glance out the windows showed him nothing but pale gray. Yet this time, it was not a blizzard that obscured the view – heavy white fog surrounded the castle, lingering in the still morning air.

It was the most promising morning he had yet opened his eyes to in the castle.

Roxas was strong enough to sit up on his own and his head was steady enough to bear the motion. His entire body complained with an anemic ache, but he still felt far better than the day before.

Glancing to the side, his eyes fell next on Axel, still faithfully attendant, if sleeping at the moment. The man's head was resting on his arms, laid beside Roxas on the edge of the bed. Roxas smiled to find one of his hands trapped in Axel's, their fingers knit together. And the red-haired man still looked well – his face had color and his large hand was comfortingly warm. Roxas relaxed as he watched the sleeping face, sensing the soft presence of their bond still there, unwavering. Yet soon, his content smile faded into a troubled frown again as his mind returned to its unanswerable, burning question.

_How am I to fall in love with him and save us both?_

Roxas still felt himself utterly inadequate in such a realm, and he could not see how he was to succeed without any personal experience. Grasping for any direction at all, then, he considered what he knew of others' experience.

_Sora has experience in love…he is always with one of the village girls. Perhaps if I can remember how he acted around those he loved…_ But then, Roxas realized, he wasn't at all sure that Sora had been in love with any of those girls. In fact, if he thought carefully, Sora's behavior once away from most of them had not indicated any great attachment. His reactions to mention of Yuffie had been the strongest; yet on the whole, it seemed that Sora stopped thinking about the girl he flirted with as soon as they parted company. Roxas didn't know much about love, but he could see that this wasn't it. Even with Yuffie…well, perhaps she was a little special, but somehow Roxas doubted if it was more than that.

Sora, for all his apparent experience in romantic escapades, provided very little help for Roxas in his current dilemma.

_Who else, then? Where have I seen love?_ As soon as the question entered his mind, Roxas thought of his parents. Cloud and Tifa were, to their children, a shining example of domestic love. They were not overly demonstrative – or at least, they had not been in Roxas' memory – yet they always smiled warmly at each other, and their hands always seemed to find each other. Gentle, innocent contact was so common that the children had ceased to notice it. The young Strifes had also long ago given up on reacting to slightly stronger displays of affection as well, yet Roxas could remember a time when their parents sneaking a quick kiss had provoked cries of "Ewwwwww!" from himself and Sora, and dark blushes from Naminé and Kairi.

By all these tokens, Roxas knew that his parents loved each other faithfully, yet the puzzle of _how that felt_ remained. When they looked at one another, how did they _feel?_ How did his father feel about his mother? _Or…wait…_ Should he be wondering how his mother felt about his father? Roxas' jaw fell slightly slack as his face showed his chagrin. Not another question he didn't know how to answer!

_Oh gods…we're both men. Am I to be looking at Axel as a man looks at a woman? Or am I to figure out how a woman feels when in love with a man? I hardly know which is more hopeless…_ Needless to say, Roxas had never considered himself a girl, nor did Axel appear the least bit feminine in his mind. With a grimace, he thought, _Wonderful. Another impossible complication._

Roxas was beginning to despair of ever answering the question of how to fall in love. What was more, he couldn't dispel a nagging sense of urgency. Axel was well enough now, yet neither of them knew how long that would last. How long before the man once again began to succumb to the hungry monster inside? And, if Roxas wasn't in love with him by then and able to do _something_ to try to save him, what would it take next time to buy Axel's temporary sanity again? And…could he even afford to wait until such a dire moment? _Perhaps not. If there's any hope that Axel will return my heart to me, it is probably a better chance to offer it when he's not mad with hunger. Provided I can even discover how to do that…_

His head beginning to throb with pain from his frustration, Roxas sighed heavily, wiping his free hand down his face, his fingers rubbing sleep from his eyes. He couldn't think about this anymore. Not now.

Fortunately, he didn't have to. The sound and motion woke Axel, who sat up quite abruptly, blinking rapidly. His eyes immediately trained on Roxas, and the redhead croaked out sleepily, "Roxas…you're awake? Can I get you anything? Water?" Without waiting for an answer, he was already up and collecting the water vase, hurrying to take care of the task for Roxas.

The blond smiled indulgently and allowed Axel to bring him water. It was true that he was thirsty, after all.

He watched as Axel carefully handled the preparation of his food and water, and as he watched his heart continued to waver between a touched contentedness in his present company and fearful uncertainty at the thought of the future and its obstacles. _How long do we have?_ He wondered again and again. _How long can we enjoy this peace? _

He couldn't know until too late that the answer would be: _This one day._

~o~


	10. This One Day

**Author's Note: **Lauren's.

_There was nowhere to snap it! Augh!_ (Translation: this chapter is almost double length, geez.)

* * *

Chapter 10 ~ This One Day

Roxas was able to get up out of bed that morning, in spite of Axel's protests that he should continue to rest.

"Please, Axel. My body can replace blood quickly enough. I'm sure it already has. The best thing for me now is to be up and about, doing something invigorating."

Roxas would not hear arguments. Besides, he needed to use the lavatory, and insisted that Axel remain in the room – he was quite well enough and would be back in a minute, he promised the unhappy man.

Axel relented only because Roxas gave him the task of cooking the meat while he stepped out, and Roxas walked the distance to the room with the broken window and let himself outside. He found that his muscles continued to complain stiffly, probably from persisting anemia, but the weakness and dizziness were gone.

While outside on the parapet around the courtyard, Roxas inhaled the fresh air happily. The morning was still obscured with fog, the air hardly stirring, but the temperature was considerably warmer than before. In fact, while it was still certainly cool and of course very damp, Roxas found that it was not uncomfortable outside. Vastly different from the freezing blizzard when he had first come to the black castle.

He returned to Axel feeling quite hopeful about the day, in spite of the troubling worries that haunted his heart. The red-haired man was waiting impatiently with the food, and was obviously relieved when Roxas reappeared safely.

After eating, Roxas sat on his bed again and took care of his wounds. He removed the bandage around his head, finding that the gash had closed and was beginning to heal. He then turned his attention to the new injury he had suffered – this one far less swift to heal. Axel had clumsily bandaged the bloody bite in his shoulder, but Roxas knew it needed more careful attention to prevent infection. Unfortunately, they still had little that would help, aside from the remaining bandages that the Heartless had managed to steal.

"Should I send the Heartless again? They may chance to find something useful this time…" Axel asked from the chair he had placed near Roxas' bed.

Roxas shook his head at Axel's suggestion. "They are more likely to rob the village doctors of many things needed _there_ and useless _here_. And even if they brought an antiseptic, I should probably not know it unless the bottle happened to be better labeled than most of these are." Puzzling over how to clean the deep, painful wound, he surmised, "I suppose that boiled rainwater would work again…I just wish I had something more helpful for healing or preventing infection."

He was dabbing a clean cloth at the broken flesh, wincing at the sting the contact brought and not looking at Axel, who sat very still, his head bowed and his bearing stiff, his fingers twiddling nervously. With a sudden, swift motion Axel rose, then sat quickly on the bed beside Roxas. The blond had just glanced up in surprise at the action when a hand on his opposite shoulder gently pulled him around to face the other man, who was already leaning in close.

The next thing Roxas knew, his wound smarted sharply as a hot, wet tongue slid slowly over it.

For a moment, he froze. Axel was so close…his familiar scent struck Roxas, accompanied by the warmth of his touch. He was being held firmly by his shoulder, Axel's other hand on the small of his back, so near…so very, very near to the other man, whose hair was brushing his cheek, whose face was buried in the hollow of his neck, whose…whose tongue was laving gently over his wounded shoulder, cleaning away the blood.

Roxas gasped. Axel…Axel was _licking_ him. Involuntarily, he jerked back, his mind frightened by one thought. _No! Already…again? Not this soon!_ Any moment the fangs would sink deep again…the new blood would be drained away. His body couldn't keep up at this pace, it wouldn't work…

But the green eyes that lifted uncertainly to his weren't catlike or wild…they were soft and sad and…hurt? And then they looked away again, and the still-close man was the picture of humiliation and disgust with himself as he spoke low.

"I'm not…I won't hurt you. I just wanted to help. It is…an animal's impulse, I know, but I think it will work. When…when I have been injured…I have healed very quickly with only this. I think it will help you, too." The word "animal" was soaked with loathing when Axel spoke, and there was something evasive in his explanation too.

The realization of what Axel was trying to do dawned on Roxas, while at the same time something caught his attention. "When were you injured? I thought you said…no one else fought you?"

Axel's eyes remained averted. "None of the other sacrifices injured me."

There was a long pause as Roxas waited, but Axel didn't continue. "Well? Who did?" He finally prompted.

For response, the man only glanced at him briefly, then away again. Yet somehow, that was all Roxas needed. Whether it was their bond that allowed him to know or Axel's ashamed expression, he realized why Axel didn't want to tell him how he had been hurt.

He had hurt himself.

After another moment, the red-haired man continued, still looking away. "I can only offer you an animal's healing measures…but please," the eyes met Roxas' again, "let me do this for you."

Roxas could only nod…his voice was strangely constricted at the moment. Silently, Axel bent down again, resuming his ministrations. The touch smarted and stung, but Axel was very careful, tenderly cleansing the raw flesh. Roxas felt the strokes of Axel's tongue and the fanning heat of his breath against his skin and heard, in the silence, the soft sounds the man's mouth made against his shoulder. And Roxas breathed shallowly and blinked rapidly, holding back tears, even though the pain was not nearly enough to warrant them.

By the time Axel finished, Roxas' heart was racing, his entire body unnaturally warm. And then the poor, cursed man did something most unexpected and strange. Shifting to the other, uninjured shoulder without moving away, he leaned forward, arms winding even further around Roxas' body. And, with a small sigh, Axel laid his forehead to rest on Roxas' slender shoulder.

Without thinking, held lightly in Axel's arms, Roxas felt himself respond, his own arms circling the other man's neck. No words were spoken, no explanation given – they just held each other silently for several minutes. And Roxas felt sure that, in this moment, Axel was apologizing again, releasing his self-loathing over hurting Roxas, and accepting the forgiveness the blond had already given.

Aware of this by that familiar, intangible means, Roxas allowed Axel his moment of healing. At the same time, the blond was struggling within himself – he was overwhelmed by the most powerful feeling, and he had no idea what it was. It was what made his heart race, yet it was so sad and lonely too, so…hungry, and yet too great and too much for him to contain. He was simply at a loss in the face of this intense feeling.

_What is this? What…what is it?_ His mind could only repeat the one question, over and over. No answer was forthcoming.

Roxas wasn't sure how much time passed before, as if by mutual agreement, he and Axel simultaneously withdrew from holding each other. The red-haired man silently returned to his chair by the bed while Roxas began automatically wrapping his wounded shoulder, fighting off a shiver from the sudden chill that touched him once Axel's warmth had been removed.

As he finished, Roxas carefully dared to break the silence, offering another subject in hopes of distracting and cheering them both.

"It is not terribly cold out today…I think I should like to go out in the fresh air for a bit. A walk to stretch my limbs would do me good, I think."

Axel finally unfolded from his stiff discomfort and looked up, responding. "The grounds are quite extensive…but you shouldn't go far. You might overexert yourself…"

"Axel," Roxas sighed, "I've told you I'm fine…"

"I know," the man quickly replied, apologetically. "It is merely that…I would feel better if you were careful and didn't go far. You should stay close to this room, just in case."

"Well," Roxas somewhat relented and spoke contemplatively, "perhaps the courtyard near here…but I have seen no way to get down from the parapet to the ground. It must be at least two levels."

Axel brightened slightly, a small smile becoming visible in his expression. "I believe I can take care of that." He would not tell Roxas how, but only promised that the blond would see. Before he would allow them to depart, however, he insisted on collecting up several fine blankets from the bed to bring along, in case Roxas became chilled. Nor would he allow the blond to carry them – Roxas must be unburdened and free to lean on Axel's arm as they walked down the hall, just in case he became dizzy.

Rather than exiting through the broken window – dangerous, in Axel's opinion, because of the glass – they went further down, finally entering a room at the very head of the hall. This room, a parlor, was apparently the nearest that actually held a door to the parapet. The tall double doors, made entirely of glass, now blackened like all the other windows in the castle, opened onto a wider section of walkway – almost a balcony over the courtyard in this spot.

As Roxas stepped forward to gaze out upon the courtyard, Axel suddenly raised his voice, summoning the Heartless with a call. Roxas turned back to see the black creatures pouring out of every crevasse, more than he could count, and streaming over the edge at their master's command. Roxas watched in amazement from the edge of the balcony as the countless black creatures piled on top of one another on the ground below, creating a rapidly-growing pile that stretched toward the balcony above. He watched as the pile of Heartless reached his level, suddenly beginning to congeal. The numerous little bodies, hard enough to tell apart when they were all lumped together, began to flow and melt into one another, the individual features disappearing as the whole mass took on a new form. The form of a…staircase?

Roxas' eyes were wide as he turned to Axel, who was concentrating on the work of his minions. "How…how are they able to do that?" For a moment, the green eyes remained focused on the black shape, as the final form solidified, the steps becoming distinct. Then he glanced back at Roxas, and the slightest smile flickered across his lips.

"I've told you what slow learners they are…yet I'm glad now that I bothered with teaching them dull parlor tricks like this. They can take on other shapes too, if you feel inclined to see them later."

With that, Axel began to lead Roxas to the black staircase. Roxas nervously followed, eyeing the shape of the stairs with distrust. Axel, noticing, glared at the Heartless-staircase again and barked another order. "Banister!"

At the word, black tendrils shot up all along one side of the stairs, quickly reforming and hardening into a sturdy banister. Axel stepped onto the black shape through an area of broken railing on the balcony, then turned back to hold a hand out to Roxas. "Don't worry, it's safe and solid. Come on."

Still uncertain, Roxas nevertheless took the offered hand, his other reaching for the banister to steady himself as they descended, just in case. He marveled at the solidness beneath his fingers, and the black shape radiated a slight, living warmth.

Following Axel down, he swallowed and continued to express his wonder. "I meant – before – how are they able to all fuse together like that? Weren't they all separate creatures?"

Slowly leading Roxas downward, Axel contemplated the question. "They are very malleable. Hard to break, even, for they always seem to re-form somehow. I have only my own theory about their origins, for I don't truly know…" He trailed off, glancing at Roxas, who nodded for him to continue.

"Well, the monster that…that I faced the day the curse befell me…it looked very much like these do, only far, far larger. I thought at first that its spawn had come to serve me, but after seeing how they can do things like this," his arm, bearing the blankets, swept to indicate the stairs, "I have begun to think that the first monster broke into these many scattered pieces after…after finding me. And these are all bits of that creature. Indeed, this may even be their original form, and they gathered together at that time too. But I do not know. It is only a guess, and a bitterly ironic one, that the monster that ate my heart would become my useless minions." As he finished, Axel's expression was sardonic and somewhat grim, but not nearly the passionate rage or hate Roxas almost expected.

Roxas was just thinking of how to respond when he realized they had reached the ground of the courtyard, and the Heartless-stairs were evaporating behind him, crumbling into their countless little bodies again and scurrying away. As he watched, he could only manage an overwhelmed, "Oh…" before Axel was leading him forward again, and Roxas turned his eyes to the scenery around him.

The courtyard was certainly small, with the black stone of the castle rising around it forebodingly. However, as Roxas looked around, he felt his spirits rapidly lifted. The trees were all bare, of course, and the ground was still mostly covered in heavy patches of soggy snow, with only somewhat sodden earth showing through the white – no trace of grass to be seen. Yet the air was temperate and still, almost warm, like a day in earliest spring, and the fog that surrounded them, though grayish white, almost seemed to be gathering a golden tint. The clouds overhead must be much thinner than usual, Roxas mused.

All was silent as they walked forward, their steps crunching and splashing a bit in the almost eerie atmosphere. Roxas could see through the slight obscurity of the fog – ruins of once-beautiful trees, ruins of once-elegant statues. These, too, were black like the castle, the stonework showing cracks and wear. As they reached the center of the courtyard, a circular area formed around a fountain, Roxas paused to observe the carvings before him. The fountain was made in the shape of three women – sisters, perhaps – who stood stiffly with their backs together. Their arms were raised, and birds like doves rested on their hands, facing outward as if ready to spread peaceful songs in every direction.

There was something in their kind expressions…_They remind me of Mother…and my sisters…_ A bittersweet ache filled Roxas' heart at the memory.

Axel's voice nearby interrupted his recollections. "Will you sit and rest a bit, Roxas?" The blond turned to see Axel by a stone bench at the perimeter of the central circle. The man had apparently cleared the snow away, laying a heavy blanket over the cold, wet stone. Smiling at the red-haired man's continued worry over his stamina, Roxas nevertheless relented, joining Axel at the bench and sitting comfortably. Axel seemed pleased by this, and lowered himself beside Roxas, joining him in sitting before the fountain and resting.

For some minutes, they sat in silence. Roxas grew chilly, but the moment gooseflesh began to shiver over his arm Axel noticed, unfolding one of the blankets immediately and laying it around Roxas' shoulders to warm him. Roxas smiled and thanked him, and he felt for a moment that Axel almost smiled back.

These small, tentative smiles were a new expression for Axel, as far as Roxas had seen. The cursed king had been nothing but varying degrees of misery and rage and fear since Roxas had come, except for the occasional ravenous, evil smirk in the beginning. His smile was so different – even such thin, uncertain ones smoothed the lines of pain in his face and brought a faint flicker of light to those startling green eyes, making Axel look almost…beautiful.

As Roxas studied the man beside him with careful, sidelong glances, the misty air stirred gently. Roxas felt it threading through his own hair; at the same time, Axel's hair was stirred, some strands gently pushed into his face. Roxas had a sudden urge to brush those strands aside…and possibly run his fingers through red spikes as he straightened them.

Instead, he forced himself to look away before Axel caught him staring. His cheeks slightly flushed, Roxas directed his attention back to the fountain. The women gazed gently outward, their eyes seeming fond and tender as they faced the courtyard.

It reminded him of the way his mother looked at her garden sometimes. Or the way Kairi used to look at her treasured doll. Or the way Naminé looked at her whole family, or the way Cloud looked at his fields at times, or his children, or his wife.

And Roxas wondered if love was perhaps something simple, like a very fond feeling that made one smile so gently at the object of their heart's affection. But he couldn't be sure…especially when he tried to imagine a person giving up their life because of a simple feeling of tenderness. He couldn't see it…love must be more than that, somehow.

His father, he knew, would give up anything for his mother. Cloud had not concealed from his children the fact that he would willingly die to protect them all if there was ever a need. Tifa just as much so. Her life was more to him than his own.

His mother, Roxas contemplated, probably felt the same way, only in a somewhat quieter manner – less visible, but just as unwavering and strong. She had left her village, her home and her whole family to marry Cloud. She saw them rarely, for the time for a visit could not be found more than once every few years. And, while it wasn't as if she had died for her love, she had given up everything that she called her life. She had made Cloud her life, and then her children, too.

It _had_ to be more than just fondness. Even if love was still something simple, there had to be something powerful in it too. Something that changed his parents' lives. Roxas regretted for a moment that he could not ask his father about it. Either of his parents would probably be able to tell him something about what love was like.

Instead, they were far away…probably still grieving, believing Roxas to be dead by now. His heart throbbed painfully at the thought. He desperately needed to get back to them, to alleviate their pain…

_Concentrate. To help them, you know what you must do. Love…_

"Axel?" Roxas' voice suddenly spoke up softly.

"Yes?" Axel turned toward him, and Roxas suddenly felt unsure about his question. How could he ask _Axel_ this? He wished he'd not spoken…but it was too late.

Taking a deep breath and trying to force his face to hide his embarrassment, Roxas asked, "Have you…ever been in love?"

Axel blinked. "L-love?" Then suddenly, his face was averted, his eyes avoiding Roxas as he flushed heavily. "I…that…why? Why would you ask me such a thing?" His posture had quickly become rigid, nervous.

"I have been…wondering. I am curious to know what it is like."

Green eyes flickered briefly to his face with intense interest. "You do not know? Haven't…haven't _you_ been in love?"

Roxas flushed too. "I thought you could tell. Couldn't you…smell it or something? That I have not…" Embarrassment was nearly choking Roxas as he referred to their first meeting, conveniently forgetting in his words that _taste_ would be more accurate to describe the sense Axel had used to learn of his…innocence. His heart, however, raced with the memory he was too shy to speak of.

Axel's voice was low, nearly mumbling. "I…no. I could never…_smell_…your heart's entire history. Only your…your body's innocence." Both young men's faces flamed even darker red at these words. Axel continued quickly, "And I thought…I assumed that a person like you – such a kind and brave young man – would surely have loved before. And even now…haven't you a maiden waiting for your return? Isn't she the reason you…you challenged me?" Those green eyes were now clearer, able to look at Roxas with confused curiosity.

Roxas' brow wrinkled in surprise. "What? N-no, there's no maiden. Why would you think that? I have never felt anything for any girl in my village."

An invisible force seemed to tug at the corners of Axel's lips, even through his surprise. "Is that so?" He all but whispered before looking back to Roxas. "I suppose…I just assumed it. You are such a…a fine young man…to me, you are so obviously good and your heart is so gentle, I cannot see how there can be a maiden in your village who would not love you. And…naturally, you must have found one you favor by now?" The question persisted in Axel's voice, even though Roxas had already denied it, as if the red-haired man thought there must be some misunderstanding.

Roxas blushed again, turning his eyes away from Axel, instead watching the fog whirl slowly, slightly thinner now, and seeming more golden than before. "No…" His answer was soft. "It is as I said. I cannot speak for the maidens – though if they have such thoughts I have never noticed – but I can speak with certainty of my own heart. And I have never been in love."

Axel nodded, seeming to search for words, that force still tugging his uncertain lips upward. After a pause, he only managed a wordless sound of understanding, "Ah…"

At that, Roxas continued, persisting in his question. "That is why I ask. I wondered, and I thought that surely you must know…"

"Love? I? Far from it." Red hair was shaken from side to side as Axel denied it.

Roxas hadn't wanted to mention this…but he had no other source that might help him find the answers he sought. So he quietly, hesitantly asked, "I thought…you had such experience. After all, with so many princesses…"

Axel's brow furrowed, yet not angrily. Unhappily. "I told you…love never entered into it."

_Perhaps it would be better not to press him…_ Yet Roxas only thought this after he had begun to ask: "Never once? Was it really possible to be with so many of them…so in-intimately…and never feel anything for even one?"

Axel's head bowed slightly in shame. "It is hard to explain to one so truly good…what a wicked man can do." Roxas wanted to contradict him at once, telling Axel that he wasn't wicked at all, but the man continued. "No…there was no love. It was always only selfishness and lust. I realize now that it is a shameful thing, but at the time…well. Bodies can be brought together without love…for only pleasure. Physical union needs no deeper connection than the body's gratification."

"But…there _is_ a deeper connection?" Roxas persisted in his asking. "There _can_ be something more…something like love?"

Axel blinked at him uncertainly. "I cannot be sure. I never felt it. But…" Green eyes wandered around the courtyard and the golden fog. "I feel that…with love, there will be much more. When the heart is joined to another heart…I think all else will follow. The mind and spirit and…body…will all come together, somehow." He glanced down, ruefully. "I wish I had not…missed such an experience."

Roxas swallowed to give his voice strength. "There is still time…" he breathed, gazing at Axel. The next moment, his heart sank as the man shook his head.

"I cannot love now. I have no heart to give, remember?" Roxas blinked in surprise as Axel murmured sadly, "It was eaten by the monster…long ago."

"You think…without a heart, you cannot love?"

Axel shrugged. "It all begins there, doesn't it? Or so the stories go…and I've no reason to disbelieve them. It seems only natural that a heartless creature would have no way to feel love."

And, though Roxas had no idea why, he felt something deep within him reject such a thought. As if…it couldn't be true. As if it were wrong somehow, or he wanted it to be…yet he didn't know enough about love to correct Axel's thinking. At least…not with a proper explanation…

Still, he couldn't agree. Reaching out, he tentatively touched Axel's hand, which was folded in his lap. Green eyes looked into his as Roxas shook his head with determination.

"I may not know what love feels like or how it works, but I think it is bigger than the heart. And I think…there is a way."

Axel gazed at him almost hopefully. "But…how?"

Roxas bit his lip briefly and tightened his grip on Axel's hand. "I confess I do not know. But…I believe it is possible. So," he smiled gently at Axel, "please do not give up."

It wasn't much, Roxas knew, and he probably wouldn't have found his own words very comforting. However, unknown to the blond, Axel had never been given such encouragement by another person in all his many centuries of life, even before the curse fell. The invisible force that had been intermittently tugging at the corners of his mouth during their conversation suddenly returned stronger than ever as Axel's expression broke into a wide smile. Roxas was stunned to see it – a new, joyful light filled his bright green eyes as he beamed happily at the blond, his face transformed in a moment into something so beautiful that Roxas had to catch his breath. _Oh…_ Almost overwhelmed, Roxas could only form one complete thought. _I want him to always smile like this…_

In that moment, the clouds broke, and a thin beam of sunlight pierced the fog in the courtyard.

Roxas' eyes were drawn toward the light, the beautiful ray that shimmered through the mist, evaporating it slowly. It struck a spot on the fountain, and the black stone lit up, shining sleekly. He stared a moment, then got up, smiling broadly as he walked toward the light. It had been so long since he'd seen the sun…and Roxas stretched a hand out to feel the warmth touch his fingers.

It felt wonderful…like summer days at home, like carefree play and satisfying, hard work. And he turned to Axel, eyes wide with joy, and called to him, "Axel! Come here and feel the sunlight!"

And Axel couldn't resist the magnetic draw of the beautiful boy with golden hair in the golden light, and he came forward and stretched his own hand into the light as well. Roxas watched him feel the sunlight, watched his smile broaden even more, and, laughing happily just a little, he joined their hands.

More beams of light broke through around them, touching arms and shoulders and faces with yellow warmth. And Roxas smiled and sighed happily and asked Axel if he agreed that the sunlight was beautiful, and Axel looked at Roxas in the light and agreed with his entire being.

They enjoyed the sunlight in the courtyard. Roxas looked around, commenting on the lovely architecture and the massive remains of the trees, and everything was beautiful to him, even in this ruinous place. After a while, as the sun burned away all the mist and filtered much more steadily through the thin cloud cover, they returned to the bench. Roxas sat beside Axel, but he soon grew drowsy in the warm light and leaned against the solid form of the red-haired man. It wasn't long before they had rearranged themselves, Roxas leaning back against Axel's chest, almost lying down.

Roxas felt almost perfectly content, with Axel holding him here in the sun. Axel, for his part, watched the boy doze, entranced, not even daring to touch him more than he was, though his fingers itched to trace over those peaceful features.

Roxas didn't know how long he drifted, half-asleep in the sun, supported in Axel's arms. A slanting orangish-gold beam striking his eyes roused him, making the insides of his eyelids turn deep red. He squinted his eyes open, yawning and stretching and immediately noticing Axel's hands, which had been closed over his own to keep his arms from falling away.

"Axel…" Roxas sleepily remarked, "Goodness, are you cold? Sitting there without a blanket…your hands are so chilly!" Roxas himself was warm, but he could feel the slight chill in the air as he rose.

Axel looked at him, slightly surprised. "I do not _feel_ cold…"

Roxas frowned and clasped the man's large hands with his own to be certain. "Well, your hands feel fairly cold to me, so perhaps we had best go in and warm ourselves by the fire."

Axel was compliant with the suggestion and willingly collected up the blankets. They walked through the beginnings of sunset in the courtyard, back to the wall rising up toward the balcony. There, Axel called out, summoning the Heartless again, and the stairway was beautifully re-formed before Roxas' eyes. The blond watched, just as fascinated, for the sight was quite different from the ground than from above.

When the stairs were formed, Axel and Roxas ascended, reentering the castle and slowly making their way back down the hall to Roxas' room.

The insolent fire had had the audacity to go out during the day, but with a glare from Axel it burst to life again, struggling to consume ash until Roxas busied himself piling wood into the hearth while Axel returned the blankets and such to their places.

Easily and companionably, they set about evening activities. There wasn't much meat left for Roxas to cook and he used the last of the bread, commenting that he'd have to do something about food again soon.

Axel didn't take the cooked food, though Roxas offered. He seemed to be concealing an ill feeling when he looked at it, and the blond grew concerned.

"Are you all right Axel? You look a bit pale…"

Axel looked up innocently, smiling. "Fine, Roxas. I'm fine." The last of the late afternoon sun was shining its russet light through the old windows, making the room look and feel quite warm to the boy, but when he reached out to Axel, just to be sure, and touched his large hand, it still felt unsettlingly cold.

"You haven't warmed up at all." He frowned deeply. "Come and sit here on the hearth with me." Roxas was right next to the fire, cooking, and hoped that he was so warm himself that Axel only felt cold to him. Agreeably, the red-haired man joined him, sitting beside him in front of the roaring blaze. Roxas was satisfied, and hoped Axel would warm up again now.

As Roxas began to eat, Axel brought up a subject of conversation. Smiling again – his smile seemed so ready and free, now – he looked at Roxas and asked, with a boyish interest, "Tell me a story?"

Roxas laughed briefly. "What about?" _So like a child at times…_

Axel shrugged happily. "I don't know. About you. About something you're thinking of."

Roxas laughed again, admiring the firelight on pale skin and in green eyes. "Ahh, well…all right." He thought for a minute, then grinned. Holding up the bread he was eating, he spoke.

"This bread is stale. That makes me remember when Kairi, my little sister, first tried to bake bread. Our mother helped her and Naminé, my other sister, and they each baked a loaf. Mother's loaf was perfect, as usual, and Naminé's tasted good, but it was very oddly shaped. But Kairi's was not only frightful looking, it was hard as a brick. Mother tried to pretend it was fine because Kairi was so upset, but when my grandfather bit into it he hollered and claimed it had broken his last good tooth." Roxas chuckled at the memory, Axel watching him with an admiring smile. "Of course, he had plenty of good teeth, but it was his manner of speaking that amused us all, and Kairi ended by laughing instead of crying."

Roxas laughed lightly again, and Axel seemed deeply pleased by the sound, if uncertain how to laugh himself. In the gathering dusk that darkened the room, he asked questions about Roxas' family for the first time, greatly interested in each person, in what they were like and how Roxas felt about them.

It was soon dark, and Axel was absently flicking his eyes to various candles to increase the light in the room. They both thought the sun had set. In truth, however, it was not quite done setting.

The heavy clouds had closed over the light again, turning the sky prematurely black.

"So," Roxas sighed happily, "Your turn. Tell _me_ a story."

Axel blinked and scratched his head awkwardly. "Ah…you already know my only good story…"

"That doesn't matter," Roxas prodded. "My story was ridiculous and unimportant. Tell me something small from your memories."

Axel nervously agreed, and cast about uncertainly for something that would remind him of a story. It had been so long since anything worth telling had happened. Of course he couldn't tell about any of the people he'd…eaten. Glancing around the room, memories _did_ start to come back, flashes from his life, but none of them would do…he didn't want to tell Roxas about them.

Axel…he believed that Roxas wouldn't hate him, no matter what dark revelations he heard. He had faith that Roxas would forgive his past, even if it seemed too good to be true and he couldn't understand _how_ the boy _could_. It wasn't that, however – it was only that he didn't want to crush that beautiful smile with a sad story. Not right now. He wanted to remember something that would make Roxas smile _more_.

Roxas waited patiently as Axel thought, not knowing how the man was struggling to find _some_ remnant of his life that would be cheerful to tell and to hear. At last, Axel's eyes stopped roaming, returned to the fire, and seemed held there by the magnetic sight of the burning wood.

Axel was speaking, low and evenly, before he realized it…and curse it all, it was exactly what he wanted to avoid talking about. But he could do nothing, he had nothing else to tell, and now the flames had all but hypnotized him with their dancing and his voice was confessing his thoughts without his consent.

"I look at this fire, and it's hot and devouring, and it makes me think of the fire the day the curse fell. The day of the monster and the death all around…" Axel caught himself, but too late – he pressed a hand over his mouth to stop the words, his eyes darting to Roxas. The radiant smile had already dimmed, and Axel cursed himself for his mistake.

Roxas saw the fear and uncertainty, and he smiled encouragingly. "It's all right Axel. Go on."

Axel shook his head faintly. "I don't want to tell you an unhappy story…I want you to smile…"

Roxas edged closer. "Go ahead and tell this one, and then when it's over we'll find something new to smile about. Smiles after sorrow are even better, after all. You'll see." His blue eyes offered tender encouragement, sought to cheer Axel.

Axel relented. He couldn't refuse Roxas when he felt himself all but melting. He nodded, and tried to steady his voice to resume.

"I went out to hunt the monster I had heard rumored. It needed to be killed, the people were helpless against monsters, but I really went hoping to awe my nobles with my valor. All of those people always gathered around me, admiring me… When I lost the others in the party and the fog closed in and the monster found me, I was terrified, but such a fool. My last thought as it overpowered me was how fortunate I was that the others were not there to see me so weak and defeated."

"When I woke, the mountain was already ablaze. The monster had vanished with the fog, and I could see my castle burning, people running, screaming, clothes aflame…all the people I had lorded over and kept around for their flattery. I don't know how many escaped. I couldn't get to the castle right away. My body was crushed, and I was bleeding from the wound in my chest, my blood pouring out of me in rivers, but the most pain was from the hollow hole that I should not have been able to live long enough to feel."

Roxas' eyes were fixed on Axel's face as he spoke, and they watered slightly with sorrow and deep concern. Axel continued, very quietly, very evenly.

"I struggled forward, the blood draining away, and there was fire all around me, burning me but not to ashes, eating into my skin but not destroying me completely. My memories of the rest are few…the fire went on for days; and for days, it seemed, I struggled toward my castle, long after there were no people left in sight. Long after I should have been burned to a cinder, not to mention fallen dead, empty of heart and blood. When it was finally over, the fire gone, and my broken body began to heal, I realized I was cursed. I knew nothing more. I made it to my castle, and it was the absolute peak of my foolishness…the whole time I had struggled to get there, I thought that if I could only reach that castle and those people, everything would be well. As if I was invincible there, amidst their praise."

The red hair waved slightly as Axel shook his head. "But they were gone, all dead or disappeared when I arrived, and all my pride was as empty as my castle. There was only loneliness and pain left. And so it has been ever since."

Then, as Roxas blinked back tears, Axel looked up and met moist blue eyes with sad, sad green. "Until now."

And, in spite of the tears still hovering in his eyes and the deep sorrow he felt for Axel's pain, Roxas couldn't help smiling at those final words. In finding something joyful to follow Axel's sad story with, he couldn't have done better than those two words. He felt overcome with blissful relief, though he wasn't sure why, and could hardly think – certainly he could think of nothing to say in response. He could only beam at Axel radiantly, and Axel, seeing such an expression, could only smile back, feeling as if all the agony of that most horrible day in his life was suddenly being washed away and completely healed by Roxas' gentle smile.

At some length, Roxas found his voice, but only enough to whisper, "Axel…" He was struggling to find voice to express his happiness, his delight at hearing Axel speak words he had so longed to hear – words telling him that he had helped, he had made a difference to this miserable creature. Even in the midst of the continuing darkness, to know that he had brought some light and relief to the one person he had so deeply longed to help…it was a gift of joy such as Roxas had never received before. This gift, and the gift of Axel's smile…Roxas felt utterly full, unable to ask for anything more.

Yet he couldn't find the right words to express his heart. Instead, for his answer, Roxas leaned forward. His arms reached around Axel's waist as his head came to rest on the man's broad shoulder. He pulled, drawing himself tightly to Axel, and he felt the other's arms tremblingly reach out and wrap around him as well.

Roxas' senses were almost over-filled – the heat of the fire, Axel's large hands on his back, the pounding of his own heart, the scent of smoke and the scent of this man, the one he was embracing, the one whose nearness suddenly made him dizzy. He felt the trembling running through Axel's body, and he didn't think, didn't wonder anymore…didn't want to.

Raising his head from Axel's shoulder, Roxas looked up at the man. He stared into those wide green eyes, his own lids beginning to droop, and tightened his hold around Axel's ribs, pulling them hard against one another. He felt Axel do the same, shaking hands pressing against his back, and he raised his head a slow degree further as Axel's face lowered toward him almost imperceptibly…

And blue eyes suddenly shot wide with a cry of surprised pain. Roxas froze, the sudden sharp sting in his back making no sense to him. Staring at Axel in confusion, he tried to process where the hurt had come from.

Axel gasped and pulled his hands and arms away with lightning speed, and it was only then that Roxas realized that those trembling hands, in clutching him closer, had been the cause of the pain.

For he saw, as Axel now did, that formerly blunt, human fingernails had grown long and sharp and pointed and hard – he didn't know when, he hadn't noticed. Now, they were claws. Long, black, curved claws…and they shimmered at their sharp tips with red wetness.

Roxas' blood.

His first impulse was to calm the obviously shocked man, who stared at his own hands in horror, who hadn't _meant _to scratch Roxas…and the blond reached out to touch those hands comfortingly, to console Axel as quickly as possible.

His hands…were colder than ice.

Shocked enough to draw back from the frigid skin, Roxas looked up, looked into that face again. And suddenly, he could see what he hadn't before, for he'd been looking into those green eyes. Through parted, panting lips…rows of sharp, pointed teeth. And…a few of them longer than the others already.

Roxas realized. He understood in a moment…and he watched the full understanding flood Axel as well. He watched round pupils widen in shock…then, the next moment, shrink again…into narrow slits.

Axel whimpered with the sound a dog makes when struck. "No…" he moaned, half sobbing. One hand flew to his stomach, clutching in horror and pain. His eyes darted sightlessly – Axel was rapidly taking stock of his condition, his dread mounting rapidly as he did so.

Roxas could see him beginning to panic, could see that he was suddenly in pain, and he should have felt fear – he knew, after all, that the monster within Axel was his enemy. He should have jumped back, reaching for his keyblades…but the thought never entered his mind. All he saw was Axel's pain and fear, and instantly he was reaching forward, grasping the tense arms and pulling Axel back, trying to soothe him by speaking to him.

"Axel it's all right, calm down…Axel, shhhh, Axel…Axel!"

At once, the man broke his hold, shaking his hands off as if they burned. Roxas reached after him, but Axel was already scrambling backwards, escaping the light and warmth of the fire, turning away from Roxas.

Roxas jumped up as Axel did, trying to follow him, to hold him back. "Axel, stop! It's all right, please…!"

"_No!_" The man half cried, half snarled. Roxas froze, those green eyes fixing him with despair.

"It's not…" Axel whispered harshly, and Roxas felt the truth choke him even as he tried to reject it, even as he frantically sought some reassurance in those hopeless green eyes.

"It's over."

The doors slammed open as Axel turned and fled.

Roxas tried to follow at once, but the red-haired man stopped in the hall, turning and throwing a hand back toward the room. "Seal!" He screamed, and the huge doors crashed shut.

The candles died at once, and Roxas was trapped alone in the darkness, with only the light of the red fire flickering low from the hearth, and only the low, mournful sound of the wind beginning to moan again.

~o~


	11. Broken

**Author's Note: **Still Lauren's. c:

If you thought the last chapter was a cliffhanger, you should see where this one _would have_ ended…if I had chosen to be mean. ;3 Instead, have another double-length.

Also: _It ain't over until I say so. _^.^

Also also, just in case you forgot that you're reading an M-rated story… *points up* See that? Rated M. Just a reminder. ;D

* * *

Chapter 11 ~ Broken

The black night was haunted with the sounds of the raging storm, the shrieking winds, and the cold crept into the room like water leaking through a sieve.

The heavy wooden doors were still sealed firmly shut, but their once aged, smooth surfaces were now broken. Deep gashes were torn into the wood, long ragged splinters peeling away. The guest of the room had not even heard the usual inner voice telling him not to destroy another person's property. All he had seen was an unacceptable barrier…and Roxas had thrown his entire being and both keyblades into the effort of _breaking that barrier down_. Something more than wood, however, was sealing the room, and the keyblades met their invisible match before long.

Now, all was silent within the room. The lone occupant had dragged himself in a daze back to the fire, where he had collapsed, keyblades falling from his hands as he curled before the stone hearth. Blue eyes stared, empty and unseeing, into the depths of the dying fire. Salt tears dried rapidly on his pale face.

Roxas prayed.

_To the gods of the villages…to the goddesses the mystics and the sorcerers serve, the ones the Witch mentioned…perhaps to the Witch herself, if she can hear me, if she is watching…to anyone at all – please, please, please protect Axel. Please don't let him…hurt…himself. Please, I can't reach him now, please stop him if he tries to…to…_

Roxas couldn't bring himself to think his true fear into a prayer. He couldn't approach that thought any nearer. Tears broke from his staring eyes as it was, streaming down his fixed, tense face.

After a while, his words ran out. He was silent in his heart and mind for some time, before a new panic began to rise.

_What if he's done it already? What if it's too late…what if he's…gone?_

Roxas gasped, gagging at the idea as his thoughts began racing again, clutching for anything to tell him otherwise, any reason to continue to hope.

_The circlet!_ Yes, the circlet! Roxas' hand flew to his own throat, touching the red metal band. _Axel said if he died it would disappear…so he must be all right, as long as it remains._ Ironically, for the first time since the night the circlet captured him, his loathed death sentence was suddenly welcome, becoming his only thread of hope. His hands wandered constantly back up to his neck to touch the metal there, reassuring himself that it was still solid and strong.

Then, as Roxas concentrated on the circlet, his thoughts came back around again to the one point they seemed indelibly fixed on. Axel.

_What is going to happen to us now, and what am I to __**do?**__ What tortures is he suffering, and how can I possibly save him from them?_

Perhaps, if Axel would come back to him, Roxas could try to buy a little of his sanity back again…but he soon realized that it was a vain hope. Even if he could spare the blood again, he knew instinctively that it wouldn't work. Time had run out for them. Axel's hunger had overtaken him in a few days before, and that had been slow and creeping by comparison – this time, he had gone from perfectly well to worse than ever in less than a day's time.

Roxas understood what this meant. The time for patches was gone. It was kill or be killed now, because Axel was dying, and the ravenous monster within him would devour Roxas if the blond didn't destroy him first.

Or…give his heart away.

Roxas didn't want to die, he was still afraid, he wanted to return to his family, alive and well, because he loved them all so much…but in this moment, all those feelings faded, overpowered by one stronger than they.

He wanted Axel to come back to him, so he _could_ give his heart away, to the man or – if necessary – to the monster, if the man was not to be found. He hoped Axel would return it because he desperately wanted Axel to be truly free, but he sincerely doubted if it were possible anymore. It was too late. It must be. And it didn't matter. Even if it would only save Axel's life – end his madness for another ten years, then give him a chance to try again – Roxas wanted to do it.

Because he couldn't bear to let Axel die, and right now, he almost couldn't bear to let Axel suffer even a moment longer.

He was afraid, deep down – terrified even. His mind recoiled from the thought of the pain, of death, the end of his existence…a final separation from his family _and_ _from Axel_. But the fear, as gnawing and terrible as it was, was not as powerful as the desire to save Axel.

The minutes slipped by and the hours dragged, and Roxas felt as if he was losing his mind as he sought to think of something to _do_, some way out of this prison, some way to find Axel…and then some way to give his heart away.

Well. Perhaps that wasn't too critical anymore, since Axel would most likely take it at once if they faced each other again. But perhaps – if Roxas could just get the other man to listen to him for a moment – perhaps he could at least _tell_ Axel to take his heart. Then afterwards, when the man was sane again, he could remember and think on what had happened, and perhaps his thoughts would lead him to make the correct choice when the next sacrifice came along.

When he was sane again. And alone. Alone in this cold, dark castle, alone for years, forgotten and miserable and… The tears began to spill again from Roxas' eyes, hotter and faster than before. And the hope he clung to – that another would come and find a way to free Axel – somehow only increased his pain, as if he were clinging for dear life to a giant thorn that impaled his chest, holding it tightly and pushing it deeper, only to keep himself from falling into the void.

Why did it hurt so much to think of Axel being saved by someone else? Roxas wanted him to be free…didn't he? Yet when he envisioned someone else offering the man their heart in love…his heart twisted with pain. And when he imagined the beautiful man accepting…tears poured from his eyes again.

Midnight drew close. There were no timepieces in the room, nothing to tell Roxas the hour, but he knew – his grandfather, Old Strife, had often called it "the witching hour." It was an hour for fairies and elves and spirits and their mischief, he had said, and he could always feel a tingle in the tips of his toes when they were at work. And Roxas was sure he could now feel midnight approaching – it wasn't quite a tingle in his toes, but there was something charged in the darkness around him, like the shock that lingered in the air one day after lightning struck a tree on a nearby farm back home. It was an energy that lived in the darkness when midnight was near, and Roxas could feel the approach of the hour.

_**Wham!**_

He heard no scuffle or warning; nothing preceded the sudden crashing, splintering explosion that slammed into the wooden doors and shuddered them heavily on their iron hinges.

In an instant, Roxas was on his feet, eyes trained on the vibrating doors that nevertheless held, sealed and solid. There was a pause; his listening ears heard a scraping, then heard the sound of something heavy being yanked free from the wood on the other side. The doors shuddered again, then stilled.

Roxas held his breath.

_**Wham, crash!**_

This time, the shocking impact was followed immediately by a second. Roxas jumped, bracing himself in a defensive posture. Splinters flew into the room and the doors looked almost ruined, yet still held. With a loud jolt, something was pulled free again…and Roxas could hear another sound underneath the shattering of wood. A low, animal-like growl.

The sound sent a wave of ice through his veins, gripping his heart with terror. Another lurch, and the second object broke free of the door…and a much louder snarl accompanied it. Roxas braced himself for another shattering blow. The pause lengthened, however, and no blow came.

Instead, Roxas had just begun to notice a seeping, flickering red light leaking under the door and through the small cracks between the broken boards…and, moments after he realized what he was seeing, a blazing inferno hit the doors from the other side.

The doors burned. Heat hit Roxas in the face like a blow, the scent of smoke choking him, stinging his eyes and scathing his throat. The weakened, broken wood held a moment, then began to shrivel and burn almost as if it were grass. Eaten by a persisting onslaught of fire, chunks of charred coal rapidly began to crumble away, leaving only the invisible barrier keeping the blazing flames from pouring into the room and swallowing everything, including Roxas.

And, as the doors fell away, Roxas could see beyond them. The barrier was invisible but seemed very solid, like very clear, very thick glass. And beyond that wall, surrounded by a sea of fire, was Axel.

No, not Axel. The monster.

Larger-than-human hands with long, curved black claws gripped at two metal weapons, giant wheels with deadly spikes – the implements that had hit the door, apparently. Roxas tightened his grip on his keyblades, wondering if his weapons would stand a chance against those, or be shattered. He didn't think on it long though. Axel's face drew his terrified eyes irresistibly upward.

His face…was like an animal's. His mouth hung open, long, sharp teeth visible between parted lips, especially the longest – the teeth in the front that had become _fangs_. His face was gaunt and utterly wasted, but his eyes were the worst. Catlike, narrow slits for pupils…and rage, rage and madness reflected as plainly as the flames mirrored there. And not a trace of human sense or thought or recognition.

"Axel…" Roxas could only whisper, feeling his heart break at the sight of what the man had become.

The door crumbled, the charred wood falling away. There was only the barrier between them now, and Roxas was suddenly thankful for it, even thought he had cursed it earlier for keeping him from following Axel.

And then, the creature on the other side pulled up both spiked wheels, pointing them forward as, with a sudden burst of speed, he threw himself headlong into the barrier.

The air warped where the spikes struck, halted in midair, and the monster braced himself, pushing forward, harder and harder. Roxas scrambled to a more open place where he would be able to fight more freely and defend himself better. Axel snarled and drove forward into the invisible wall, never relenting. The spell he had cast while sane was apparently a good one, and not one he could undo while no better than an animal in his mind…but if sheer force could overcome the magic at all, the monster was going to succeed.

Then, there was a sudden explosion of sound that seemed to have no source…and Axel surged forward through the obliterated barrier.

Roxas braced himself, his keyblades raised in defense, yet the power of that first strike nearly knocked him off his feet. He was forced back a few paces, his arms reverberating with the shock of metal on metal. Keyblades locked against the spiked wheels, he pushed back, refusing to be overpowered any further, gritting his teeth against the pain his worst injuries throbbed with.

"Axel!" His voice was both a shouted command and a cry of desperation. "Axel, stop! It's me, Roxas! …_Ah!_" He had born the pain in his wounded shoulder, but could do nothing about the sudden failure of his arm, which gave out under the pressure. Roxas dodged to the side, barely managing to maintain his grip on that keyblade, very nearly slipping and getting impaled by several metal spikes.

Axel lurched forward, off balance, then whipped around again, throwing himself toward Roxas as directly as before. Not ready for another blow, Roxas tried to dodge, but Axel was quick – the blond felt his weak arm caught momentarily by a spike, both his sleeve and the skin over his bicep ripping open.

With a catlike leap, Axel followed, not giving Roxas even a moment to pause. This time, however, Roxas anticipated the direct, head-on, unguarded attack. Slashing out with his good arm, he sent a keyblade right between Axel's arms, heading for his chest. The monster had to throw himself backwards to prevent his momentum from carrying him right into the blade.

Roxas screamed again, "Axel, stop! Axel!"

The monster was already back, and Roxas didn't have a choice but to take the blow this time, and this time, he couldn't hold his ground. Metal grated against metal as Roxas was pushed back, his back slamming into the stone wall moments later. He was breathless for a moment, unable to draw air from the impact…as well as the sight of Axel.

The snarling, monstrous face was close, teeth barred and lips curled back like a wild dog. And the flashing green eyes still held as much comprehension as a wild dog…but Axel responded. Growling out from between his teeth, his voice inhumanly low and harsh – it sounded as if his throat were made of large rocks, and his voice was the sound of them grinding together – Axel's nearly-strangled answer came.

"Rox…as…Rox…Roxas…" Axel was still in there…fighting the monster too.

Roxas, pinned against the wall, threw his weight onto his arms, which were pressed close against his body as his keyblades warded off the pressure of Axel's weapons. Allowing that force to hold him pinned without support for a moment, Roxas crunched his body, bringing both legs up together, curling them close against his stomach and between himself and Axel. Then, with a violent kick, he straightened out, throwing Axel backwards and off him. The red-haired monster roared as it doubled over, dropping one wheel and clutching its stomach.

Roxas stumbled a moment to regain his footing, then shot forward, yelling, "Axel! Stop this, come to your senses, Axel!" The next moment, his keyblades swung down.

Forced back with only one weapon, and that one, for the moment, in his weaker hand, Axel blocked and retreated, snarling, "Roxas…Roxas…hel…help…Roxas…k-…kill…" Then a renewed howl of fury broke from his lips as Axel suddenly threw himself into another attack. Roxas bumped into the edge of the bed and nearly stumbled, but fortunately Axel didn't strike – he was transferring his remaining weapon into his stronger hand.

Roxas was forced to defend again as blow after blow rained down on him, strike after debilitating strike. Growls of Roxas' name broke between the attacks, and the blond, when he could take his eyes off the dangerous wheel for a split second, thought he could read flickers of struggle and uncertainty in those mad green eyes.

Suddenly, the direct frontal assault changed. Roxas had just been knocked backward, and was struggling to keep from losing his footing. Axel dropped down, low to the ground, and sprang upward into an unguarded spot. In a flash of panic, Roxas managed to bring his keyblades down and block the strike, but the unexpected angle and the weariness that was weakening him fast caused him to lose hold of one blade. As it clattered to the floor, Roxas was left gripping his last defense as Axel once again forced him back until he hit the wall.

Pinned against stone, Roxas found himself staring again into those eyes. Now, Axel's green eyes were tortured. Still aggressive and almost mindless, but there was a dark depth of anguish in them as Axel's voice ground out again.

"Roxas…hurry…k-kill me…pl-please…"

He acted. Adrenaline and instinct and rash abandon…he acted on those.

"_No!_" Roxas screamed frantically, throwing Axel off and twisting the weapon from his hand, losing his own keyblade in the sudden action. Before he could blink, Axel was back, clawed hands slamming into Roxas' shoulders, sending a bolt of pain through his injury. Without hesitation – but with a howl of misery – the monster opened his mouth and dove forward, ready to tear Roxas apart with his fangs.

Weak as his arms were, Roxas threw them up between them, his hands going straight for Axel's throat, only barely getting there in time to stop him. Axel choked; Roxas winced, the clawed hands digging into his upper arms even harder.

They were only inches apart, and this time, Roxas didn't raise his voice, didn't scream or issue a panicked command. He took one deep breath and just spoke, low and evenly.

"Axel. Stop."

The change of tone seemed to catch Axel off guard, the monster blinking and hesitating, green cat eyes wide. He remained frozen, staring at Roxas as the blond looked up, blue eyes filled with grief.

His voice remained low, soft and somewhat broken with sorrow. "I'm not going to kill you, Axel. And I'm not going to fight you anymore. Can you…understand me?"

Still pressing his throat against Roxas' restraining hands, Axel's brow furrowed in pain and confusion. "Wh-why? You have to…do it…kill me…and go free."

Roxas just shook his head slowly, struggling to slow his breathing back to normal. "I won't ever be free if you die…so…I'm giving you my heart." A jolt of shock shot through Axel's body as Roxas spoke those words. "It's yours…take it, I'm giving it to you." Roxas nearly choked on the words, but he carefully, slowly relaxed one hand, removing it from Axel's neck and reaching for one monstrous, clawed hand at his shoulder. Grasping the bone-thin wrist, he pulled. There was stiff resistance for a moment before Axel's arm gave up, allowing Roxas to lift that hand and move it – placing the palm against his chest, over his heart.

"Take it," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut as he braced himself, forcing back the frightened tears and the sorrow and the longing for home and family and just _one more day_ to smile in the sun together with Axel.

Axel's voice reached him, still gravelly and deep, but cracking with sorrow. "N-no…why?" The hands on his chest and shoulder shook violently, and Roxas felt Axel swallow heavily against the hand still braced lightly against his throat.

Not knowing how to answer, Roxas opened his eyes to that face again. To his surprise, there were tears slipping in fast tracks from those wild green eyes with the razor-thin slits for pupils. And, though he didn't know how to explain the reason for his surrender, he realized there was one more thing he wanted to do before dying.

The inches between them were not many, but Roxas couldn't reach across them from where he was pinned to the wall. Instead, he carefully released the remaining pressure on Axel's throat, hesitating to see if the man would push forward again. When he didn't, Roxas reached forward, slipping that hand behind Axel's head, fingers weaving into long red hair at the base of his neck.

And now Roxas tugged forward, slowly bringing Axel closer, until his own neck could stretch far enough.

Axel's lips were cold and unresponsive at first, parted, peeled back from those sharp fangs…but Roxas laid his own warm lips gently against them, pressing a soft kiss to the monster's mouth.

Axel gasped at the touch, drawing Roxas' warm breath into his cold lungs. Green eyes stared, blankly uncomprehending for a moment, but Roxas let his own eyes slip shut.

And, as his lips touched Axel's, Roxas felt a flood of warmth wash over his body, and his heart leapt and throbbed with such powerful happiness and…and _recognition_. And the blond boy finally understood.

_Ah…this is love. This is how it feels. I __**do**__ love Axel…I did even before. How long? …I don't know. Doesn't matter. Axel…Axel…I love him. Oh, I love him so much…I want to be with him always, oh, don't let me lose him now…_

Axel's tears fell downward, striking Roxas' face and mingling with his own. The blond didn't notice. His heart was full and felt like it was breaking with too much love, and instinctively he pressed closer, his lips caressing Axel's, pouring warmth into the other man.

And, slowly, the confusion and shock contorting Axel's face were overcome and forced aside. Longing…longing and helpless surrender took over, and those cold lips finally responded, pressing back suddenly, conforming to Roxas' kiss and joining their mouths fully as his eyes squeezed shut as well.

The kiss was long and hard and desperate, and Roxas forgot to be careful. They broke apart with a cry from the blond when Axel's pointed teeth accidentally cut Roxas' lip. Roxas was still close, however, and Axel immediately saw the blood. Whimpering, upset, he leaned close again. "Sorry…" he murmured against Roxas' lip, his tongue flicking out to catch the drops of blood. Roxas' breath hitched at the touch…and Axel moaned softly, tasting Roxas.

"Axel…" Roxas whispered, disregarding the sting of his lip, "I love you."

Axel's expression cleared of distress at once, surprise smoothing every furrow in his face. There was even a touch of that childish innocence in his cat eyes and grating voice. "What? I…you do?"

Roxas nodded, his fingers reaching to brush tears from Axel's cheeks as his sad eyes softened fondly. "Yes. I do. That's why…this heart is yours. _I_ am yours, I'm giving myself to you. I want…I want you to be free."

Confusion struggled into Axel's eyes again. "I…I can't be free. I can never be free, and I can't take your heart, I…if you're gone…my existence would be worse than hell. Roxas…"

"No," Roxas interrupted, "you _can_ be free. There is a way. And I can't kill you either. I love you. I will die if you die; I will die for you to live. I'm lost either way, so please," Roxas leaned closer briefly, touching his lips gently to Axel's for a moment, avoiding the teeth, "Please live. Take my heart…it's already yours, regardless."

For the space of several breaths, Axel didn't answer. His eyes fixed on Roxas', searching, wondering. Then they slipped lower, staring at the young man's chest as his hand, still placed over Roxas' heart, shifted. Roxas felt fingers trace lightly over the shirt he wore, caressing the area over his heart as Axel's eyes seemed to pierce right through his body. He even wondered if Axel could really see through him, could see his heart and was gazing at it – his expression was so awestruck, Roxas would have believed it if he were told as much.

When at last Axel spoke, it was in a hushed, strained whisper. Much of the inhuman growl was lost from his voice in this manner, and Roxas cherished the sound that was closer to Axel's customary voice.

"This…is for me? Your heart…I can have it?"

The slightest shiver of fear and uncertainty scurried down Roxas' spine, but he ignored it. He was already resigned to die. He placed his hand over Axel's and pressed that touch closer to his chest. "It is _your_ heart now."

Axel blinked, looking up to Roxas' face. "_My _heart? I have a heart?"

"Yes," Roxas sighed, "it is yours." _Goodbye, Axel._

After another pause, Axel blinked, his voice returning to strength and startling Roxas a bit. "Then…I can love too?"

Roxas' mouth opened slightly, uncertain how to respond. "I…"

Axel didn't wait. "I have a heart – _this_ is my heart – so I _can_ love. I want…" His eyes searched Roxas', "I want to love _you_." Then, before Roxas could voice his bafflement, Axel suddenly leaned forward, and Roxas felt his heart leap again as Axel pressed his lips to Roxas' in a full, passionate kiss.

Roxas' head spun so fast from the contact that he felt likely to faint. It was new, different from before, far deeper and faster. Roxas felt Axel's tongue slip past his lips, and the caresses became willful, like Axel sometimes behaved as a pampered Prince, but also commanding and hungry – like the great King, and just a little like the starving monster. It was…Axel. Everything that Axel was, every part of him that was both beautiful and flawed, somehow reached Roxas through pressing lips and tangled tongues, and Roxas responded eagerly to the kiss of the man he loved.

He felt as if he were crumbling – like the door, burned away to ash and falling before the inferno of Axel's passion. But Roxas wasn't about to be burned to dust…instead, he was coming to understand how love could be acted out. The answer to the question of what to _do_ – Axel was giving it to him in this kiss. He was communicating _himself_ to Roxas, and the blond realized that he wanted to do the same.

He wanted to give himself to Axel and let the man experience the depth of his love.

So, when they finally broke apart for air, Roxas took the opportunity to reach forward, touching Axel's wan face tenderly, tracing the lightest touches over the sharply-defined and dearly-treasured features. He noticed that, while Axel's teeth were still sharp, the long fangs had withdrawn, returning to their normal size. However, he only saw this in passing as his eyes drank in Axel's expression, which burned with desire. The eager man made Roxas smile a bit – how like Axel to throw himself into everything so fully. Roxas smiled adoringly, gazing into those intense green eyes.

Then, holding Axel's face steady with gentle hands, Roxas leaned up and kissed Axel again, this time as an expression of everything he felt for the man.

And Axel felt Roxas' gentleness in the kiss, and his kind, giving heart, and a sliver of uncertainty – Roxas wasn't sure exactly if he was kissing well, after all – and, most of all, a deep, compassionate strength that took his breath away. Roxas was so strong, as were his feelings, and he gave of himself even when he wasn't sure, and all of this and all he was were the flavor of the kiss he was giving Axel, melting the man with his love and igniting an even more powerful hunger than any Axel had yet suffered.

The hunger for the person Roxas _was_.

When Roxas released him, Axel was breathing heavily, almost panting. The next moment, Roxas was taken off-guard as Axel swiftly pushed forward, arms wrapping around the shorter young man's torso as Axel clutched Roxas close in a tight embrace. Roxas felt Axel's breath brush his ear and down his neck, and he gently responded, cradling Axel's head and shoulders against himself.

Then, Axel's voice gasped close to his ear. "Roxas…I want you."

And Roxas knew what Axel meant – he could feel the resonance of Axel's need through their bond, so powerful it made him shiver. He didn't know…_how_…but it didn't matter. He needed what Axel needed.

"I'm already yours," Roxas whispered, pulling back to meet Axel's longing gaze. "All that I am belongs to you…_take_ what you want."

And, though Roxas said that, he felt more giving than taking in the kiss Axel pressed to his mouth. He could sense that Axel wasn't very confident when it came to giving, but he was making an effort, learning from Roxas' kiss how to give.

And the race of blood through his fast-thudding heart made Roxas dizzy; and the forceful pressure of Axel's kiss took his breath away; and through that intangible connection, that bond, something was drawing tight, pulling hard, until Roxas felt that he would snap if he couldn't get closer to Axel _now_. Still, he wasn't sure what to do, and would have to trust and rely upon Axel's experience.

"Axel," he gasped, his lips released as the other man moved hot kisses over his face, jaw, and down his neck, "Axel…hurry…"

Complying at once, Axel bent quickly, and Roxas felt himself lifted with only the faintest grunt of effort from Axel's throat. A few paces later, and Axel was setting him carefully on his bed and crawling closely after him. Roxas was already reaching for him with open arms, hungering for more of Axel's touch.

Axel paused, however, once within the circle of Roxas' arms, before the blond could press them close together again. Kneeling, he looked hesitantly into blue eyes, Roxas wondering for a moment why. Then he felt a careful, tentative tugging at the hem of his shirt, as Axel slowly began to lift the garment, eyes watching nervously as his hands trembled the slightest bit.

Roxas smiled, cheeks slightly rosy as he allowed Axel to lift his shirt over his head. The garment was laid aside, Axel's hands returning to slowly caress and explore the newly-exposed skin. The red-haired man then paused, seeing the gash in Roxas' arm…then bent over it, Axel's warm tongue administering a gentle, sad apology to the wound. Roxas shivered, a thrill of delight warming him in place of the clothing.

"Are we…are we making love, Axel?" Blue eyes burned with the question, begging for it to be true. Roxas almost laughed at how darkly Axel flushed in response. The man's face flamed to his ears as he struggled out a husky answer.

"Yes…we are. Or…we will be. Soon."

Roxas beamed at the embarrassed man, reaching for him again, embracing him and laying his head against Axel's chest. "Good," he whispered, and as he spoke, Roxas' hands were already busy mimicking Axel's actions, tugging at his loose black tunic. He met Axel's wide eyes with a smile. "You don't need this then, I think?"

Axel's expression was awestruck and, to Roxas' eyes, precious beyond words, as the man nodded, lifting his arms and allowing Roxas to undress him. The black fabric slipped from Roxas' hands as his eyes took in the hitherto-concealed pale body. Corded, muscular arms and a toned figure – expected, given Axel's strength, but still admirable to any farmer – Roxas' eyes took these in, but focused elsewhere.

Axel's chest was marred over the left side with the most massive, horrifying scar the young man had ever seen.

He blinked, gasping, "Oh" – frozen a moment as he stared. Across the pale skin, the even whiter scar tissue blazed, looking as if half of Axel's upper body had been ripped away once. The muscles around the old injury were defined and normal, but twisted into misshapen forms where the scar cut through. It was…cruel. Too cruel to imagine the pain…

Axel's face was turned away, unable to look at Roxas. The blond could vaguely sense mortification from him…Axel couldn't bear to look and see an expression of disgust on Roxas' face.

Hurt blue eyes pooled with tears as Roxas reached careful fingers toward Axel, brushing the lightest touch over the enormous scar. The touch startled Axel, and his head jerked back, watching Roxas as the boy's tears broke free, overflowing.

"It's…too cruel…" Roxas choked. "How could you have ever deserved to suffer so? I can't even imagine…how could this _happen?_"

Blinking, Axel placed a hand over Roxas'. "This…from when the monster ate my heart. It tore me open…there is nothing there, even now." It was true; Roxas could feel it – his hand was pressed directly over where Axel's heart should have been, and no stirring, no rhythmic beat pulsed under his fingers. It was…still.

Axel's voice was shaking. "I'm sorry…it is horrible, I know…disgusting…" He seemed about to retreat, to move away from Roxas, and the thought made panic spike momentarily in the blond.

Leaning forward before Axel could pull away, he pressed his lips gently to the scar over the empty chest. He heard Axel gasp, but didn't stop – Roxas spread his hands and moved them further, caressing the deformed wound, kissing again and again. Finally, he pressed his face to Axel's chest again, just holding him, his tears wetting the scar.

Roxas was murmuring low, one arm around Axel while the other hand traced over chest and shoulder, down the length of his muscled arm until fingers met and intertwined, "I'll protect you from now on…I'll never let something like this happen to you again. No one will ever hurt you this much again, as long as I live." And he lifted his head, pulling away only to bring his face up to Axel's again, kissing the stunned man firmly and lovingly, making a promise he would keep forever.

For a moment, Axel merely accepted the kiss in shock, incapable of responding. Then, Roxas felt a tremor run through the body he held, and Axel whimpered, a puppy-like sound, and pressed forward hungrily. Roxas landed on his back on the bed a moment later, but neither male allowed the kiss to be broken.

Roxas began to lose himself in the embrace, the kisses, and the touches they shared. His whole being was consumed by Axel, his whole focus was only on Axel, and his only desire was for more. He'd never known the feeling of skin against bare skin, and now he couldn't get enough. Axel's hands traced over his body, touching him everywhere – still cold, yet gradually growing warmer with the heat from Roxas' body. And, where the cool touch chilled him, heated lips soon followed, warming him again.

If they had been a bit shy when removing their upper clothing, they were far more awkward when it came to lower clothing, and with excellent reason by this time. By agreement they moved to the edge of the bed, each attending to his own garment, not daring to turn heads toward each other again for several nervous moments.

The touch of fingers on his own, beside him on the bedspreads, caught Roxas' attention. He swallowed and turned his hand over, pressing palm to palm as Axel knit their fingers together, squeezing gently. The pressure gave him courage, reassurance…just enough to allow Roxas to turn back to Axel again.

The ache of desire was almost too much for Roxas to bear. And…he could see it mirrored in catlike green eyes. Axel felt the same.

From there, the heat grew too intense for Roxas to keep track of everything. Every part of him was trained on Axel, craving him so much that he didn't notice himself again until he was on his back once more, Axel pressing him down. In contrast to the forceful pressure against his body, an infinitely delicate touch traced over his lips, gently parting them as Axel's fingers slipped inside, stroking within his mouth in a way that made Roxas' mind go blank, though he wasn't sure why.

He did, however, notice that those fingers were still clawed. The claws were shorter and no longer sharp, but their dull, hard curve could still damage, with force. He didn't fear though. Axel wouldn't ever try to hurt him again.

The fingers glided from his mouth, but soon touched him elsewhere. "Ahh!" Roxas cried out, surprised at the rather uncomfortable sensation. Axel was moving carefully, slowly, trying not to hurt Roxas or claw him accidentally.

"Sorry…does it hurt?" He was panting, eyes fixed fearfully on Roxas' face, studying his expression.

"I don't…think so…" Roxas was also breathless, squirming slightly when Axel's hand moved again. He bit his lip and tried hard to relax, trusting Axel. The red-haired man helped, distracting Roxas from the movements of his fingers with endless kisses. His lips trailed softly along Roxas' inner thigh, pressed firmly over his hip, opened wetly against his stomach, and then sweetly moved lower. Roxas' head was thrown back at that, a gasping moan drawn from his lips, "A-Axel…"

Then, a claw brushed lightly, accidentally, over a spot within him that made Roxas arch and cry out louder. "Nngh! Ahh-_oh!_ That…"

Axel watched the blond's reaction with awe and surprise, his self-control shuddering. He moved his fingers again, searching for what he had just touched, asking breathlessly, "Where? Here?"

"No…not th-_ahhh yes there!_" Roxas writhed, the piercing pleasure driving away all discomfort and uncertainty as Axel massaged the spot. "S-stop…" Roxas was soon moaning, "No more…I can't…" His hand flailed slightly, reaching for Axel weakly, and the answering grasp as Axel held his hand reassured him.

Roxas felt the fingers leave him, and then Axel was panting in his ear. "Roxas…I'm sorry…I don't think you're ready, but there's nothing more I can do…I'm sorry, I think you'll be hurt, but I can't anymore…I…I want you too much…" His voice trailed off in a wordless groan of desire, the agonizing need thrumming through voice and skin and their invisible bond and reaching Roxas, entering him and overpowering him with the same need.

"It's…fine. I'll be fine…so…" He turned a sweat-dampened face to Axel's, eyes hazily searching the features he loved. "Let's just hurry…"

Axel swallowed, nodding. Then he pulled away, crawling up to the head of the bed while still holding Roxas' hand, drawing the blond along with him as Roxas shakily followed. Then, Axel sat back against the large old cushions, pulling Roxas forward and leading him to straddle Axel's lap.

Axel explained in a low murmur while guiding Roxas forward, his hands on Roxas' body readying him. "I want you to have control. So that I don't hurt you…as much."

Roxas felt a hot touch behind, Axel's hands now on his hips. "Wh-what do I do?" He couldn't help feeling a little nervous, his hands tightening on Axel's shoulders.

Axel leaned forward, kissing him deeply, lovingly. Then, his hands applied the slightest downward pressure as he whispered against Roxas' lips, "Take me inside you."

"Oh…" Roxas understood. And he trusted Axel. And he lowered his body, slowly.

He struggled to relax, to not tense against the pain. He felt Axel's grip on his hips tighten and he watched the other man's face, washed with pleasure, momentarily overcome. And he wanted…to give Axel more.

It helped when that spot inside was brushed again, Roxas trembling under that wave of pleasure. And, steadily and carefully, he lowered himself completely. He didn't realize he was gasping, tears streaming from his eyes, until Axel lifted a hand to brush them away.

There were tears in Axel's voice too, tears of remorse when he spoke. "Are you…all right, Roxas?" Roxas didn't want Axel to suffer, thinking he had hurt him, so he quickly leaned forward to kiss the man.

"Yes…yes…I'm…I will be fine."

And Axel was holding him close and murmuring in his ear, "I'm sorry…I promise to repay this…I promise you a million nights of pure pleasure, no pain at all…only love and pleasure and moonlight and…and everything I can give." He held Roxas closer, face pressed into a slender chest, and the young man slowly relaxed in those burning arms, the pain very gradually fading as Axel spoke.

Roxas quieted Axel's desperation with another kiss, and it was long moments before they parted. When at last they did, Roxas smiled hesitantly, uncertain.

"We…are making love now…aren't we?"

Axel nodded, breathed in rapture, "Yes."

"What…" Roxas shivered nervously, inescapably aware of their joined bodies. "What should I do?"

For answer, Axel moved one hand, touching and then taking hold of Roxas. The blond gasped, his body curling inward slightly, reflexively…and then Axel moved his hand in a slow stroke, and blue eyes shot wide.

"Oh…_oh._"

"Like that," Axel breathed against his neck.

Understanding, Roxas carefully moved, lifting himself with a whimper and then slowly lowering himself again, moaning loudly. The pain was back with the renewed motion, making Roxas hesitate…but the pleasure was growing stronger too. And Axel…he could see how good Axel felt. The man's expression was melted, blissful. It was so new, so beautiful, and it made his heart nearly break with happiness to see Axel feel so good.

So he moved again. And then again…and the pain began to fade again, until it became small, nothing at all, and the ecstasy of being united with Axel drove everything else from his mind. They were together, it was perfect, and Roxas loved Axel, loved him so much…and this was such a flawless way to express it, to give himself away completely.

"Axel," he was gasping, moaning, moving more fluidly, and staring into those green, green eyes. "I love you, Axel…I'm yours, all of me…yours forever…A-Axel!"

And Axel responded, holding him and touching him and giving him pleasure back, meeting his eyes in a way that made Roxas feel like there was nothing between them, they were the same now, and so it would always be.

"I am yours too, Roxas…now, and from now on…I will give you everything for as long as I live, whether it be only one more day or all of eternity, I will give you my body, my mind and spirit…and this heart…" Eyes locked, his free hand came to rest on Roxas' chest.

"If I have a heart – your heart, as you said – I'll give it back to you, along with all I am…"

They both gasped then, arching, hands clutching each other and clinging through the tightening, the unbearable building tension…and then the snap, the release.

They didn't see anything else or feel anything else or know anything else for a while. For Axel there was only Roxas, and for Roxas there was only Axel, and until they collapsed weakly beside one another, nothing else filtered through.

And then, when Axel slowly opened his exhausted eyes to gaze adoringly at Roxas' relaxed, flushed face, he was just in time to catch the final glimmering sparkle of ruby-red dust crumbling away from Roxas' throat.

The circlet was gone. Dissolved and vanished.

For a moment, Axel panicked, his stomach turning to ice – the circlet had always, always disappeared when the sacrifice was dead, the heart consumed. And Axel nearly broke in horror, imagining that he had killed Roxas.

But then, those beautiful blue eyes flickered open, misty and unfocused, and Axel's relief all but paralyzed him.

Roxas didn't notice right away. He was gazing ahead, lazily taking in the chest before him until he could raise his eyes to Axel's face. But then…something was nagging in his mind…

He gasped. _The scar…!_

The scar was gone. Axel's body was whole, as if he had never been injured so horrifically.

"Axel…!" Roxas tried to voice his wonder and surprise, but was stopped when he met Axel's eyes, which were flooded with relief and joy and…and which were bright and green as ever…with round, human pupils.

_His hands…_ Roxas searched, found, and quickly clasped a hand – a warm hand, human right to the tips of his short fingernails. And then, before Roxas could tell Axel, that hand moved forward, reaching Roxas' throat and gently touching, stroking from chin to clavicles.

Without meeting any hindrance.

Roxas' hand soon followed, and felt in disbelief for the missing circlet. His mouth opened in surprise, ready to ask Axel what had happened…

But he didn't get a chance. Axel's lips sealed over his, wiping all questions momentarily from Roxas' mind as he was kissed passionately, almost wildly. And, through the kiss, he vaguely became aware that, beyond a doubt, the fangs were gone, along with the sharp points on Axel's teeth. They, like him, were normal…human.

_Human. _It took Roxas a few moments to fully realize it. _Free. Axel…is free._

He was sobbing with joy by the time Axel released his lips.

"Roxas, Roxas, Roxas…" Axel didn't have any other words at the moment.

"You're free." Roxas laughed, a choking sound through his tears. "Axel, you're free…it's broken, the curse is broken…"

"I know…Roxas…I can feel it. I can feel…my heartbeat." And Roxas felt Axel press his hand to that restored chest, and he gasped to feel the faint pulse beating within.

And for now, they could say little more. Neither one could find words to express his joy, and so deep, long kisses and tender caresses were used instead to communicate their feelings to one another. And they lay in each other's arms for the rest of the night. The fire died slowly, and the unhindered silver moonlight streamed in through the window, but Axel and Roxas were slow to notice these things, lost in each other's eyes as they were.

At length, sleep claimed them with a slow lull of peace and bliss, but not before last, whispered words were breathed between them.

"I love you."

~o~


	12. Forever After

**Author's Note: **Lauren's in the beginning, Lauren's to the end. ^_^

I…have never finished a chaptered fic before. This is exciting. 8D

Thank you all so much, the support has been great, and I hope to see you all again! I have been happy to share this little story with you. (My gosh, can you believe it was originally meant to be a _oneshot?_) ^_^

* * *

Chapter 12 ~ Forever After

When dawn came, it was spring.

Golden sun beamed warmly through the windows of the round bedroom, illuminating the slow dance of the dust motes and gently reaching further, touching and warming the skin of two young men who slept, clasped tightly in each other's arms. After a few minutes, blue eyes opened first, wakened by the touch of the golden light.

Roxas blinked sleepily; a moment later, his face broke into a wide, blissful smile. Axel's sleeping face was mere inches away, and Roxas could not help immediately admiring the beautiful sight of those completely relaxed and peaceful features as Axel breathed slowly and deeply.

_I wonder if he's dreaming…_ Roxas sighed happily and moved to shift closer, seeking more warmth against his bare skin.

The motion, however, caused the blond to wince, surprised at a sudden bolt of pain. He bit his lip to stifle a grunt at the unexpected discomfort. At the same time, Axel stirred, brow furrowing as he began to wake up. Roxas realized the reason for the pain, then just as swiftly sought to conceal it before Axel's eyes would open. He didn't want the other man blaming himself and feeling guilty.

When green eyes opened, the first thing Axel saw was Roxas, happily watching his beloved wake up.

"Good morning," Roxas softly murmured. Axel could only sigh happily, drawing the young man closer, lost in his eyes.

"I love you…" Roxas grinned at Axel's dreamy whisper before replying in kind. Their words remained soft, sweet and adoring, hands soon caressing tenderly as well. Roxas was entranced by the feel of Axel's pulse. The rhythm was so even and slow…and he felt his own heart beat more heavily as he thought of what they had done, breaking the curse and saving Axel.

The pulse under his hands sped up as well. And, after several minutes of the two of them experimenting, Axel and Roxas both decided with certainty that their heartbeats were in sync. Perfectly matching. When Roxas' heart beat faster, he could feel it in Axel's pulse.

One heart, beating within two chests. So it was, and so it would always be after that. Neither of them understood the magic, but both were perfectly happy to share their heart.

~o~

Roxas spent much of that day in bed. Axel, as Roxas had expected, felt guilty and blamed himself for hurting Roxas, until the blond absolutely insisted that he would not tolerate any negative feelings attached to any part of their first lovemaking. Axel couldn't argue when Roxas put the situation in that light, and instead threw his energy into attentively taking care of Roxas. The blond even joked that he seemed to be quite the invalid lately, and perhaps Axel should look into studying medicine, since he was so often in the role of a doctor.

That day, for the first time in centuries, Axel was properly hungry and in need of human food. He and Roxas shared the stored venison, throwing out what little was left. There was no longer a way to keep it frozen or even cool. For the season had changed completely – the sun was shining with the full strength of a very ordinary day in spring, and the wet ground was beginning to dry out, the air becoming quite warm through the middle of the day.

The Heartless were gone. Not a trace of them could be discovered until late in the day. Roxas was feeling better and had gotten up, the two of them deciding on a stroll around the nearby parts of the castle. They discovered that the castle was as ruinous as ever, but the unnatural black that had covered the entire structure was gone, leaving crumbled gray stone – a perfectly ordinary building, ruinous after being abandoned for centuries.

Axel and Roxas had gone outside the castle as the afternoon drew to a close – it was Roxas' suggestion that they watch the sunset together, and little could be seen from widows or the courtyard. So they found a low wall outside with a fine view, and had just settled contentedly together when a sudden scuttling in the shadows caught their attention.

One lone Heartless emerged, creeping up warily as the two young men relaxed, seeing the familiar creature.

"What's it doing here, Axel? I thought they'd all gone?"

Axel shook his head and was about to reply when the creature reached them and extended a black arm which held a rolled parchment. Curious, Axel frowned, leaned forward and took it, the Heartless scurrying away again, but not disappearing completely. It seemed to be waiting to see what Axel would do.

The red-haired man examined the parchment with Roxas. The blond noticed a heavy, ornate seal and pointed it out, asking what it meant. Axel examined it, a look of concentration on his face.

"It is…a royal seal. But not mine. Yet it seems familiar…I just can't seem to recall which kingdom has this seal."

"Well, open it and perhaps we will learn."

Axel nodded, agreeing, and broke the seal, opening the scrolled parchment. Within, a letter was revealed – a fine, official-looking letter in decorative script.

_From the Royal Family and Queen Mother of the Sovereign Kingdom Of Holegn__, _

_To the Former King of the Sovereign Kingdom Of Radiant Garden, King Axel VIII,_

_Most Honorable and Cordial Greetings._

_I, the Noble Queen Mother of the Kingdom of Holegn__, do hereby extend my congratulations to King Axel VIII upon the occasion of his Resurrection. I also send this ambassadorial Greeting to enquire as to the future of Radiant Garden as a Sovereign Kingdom. As a gesture of Goodwill and Diplomacy, I am prepared to offer my personal support to the King should he wish to reclaim his Throne, and promise here, in writing, that the current King and Queen of __Holegn__ will gladly extend Diplomatic Relations to Radiant Garden at my behest. _

_To sate the Noble King's probable curiosity, I also wish to inform him that I have reclaimed his hitherto Minions for my own uses, as they are unlikely to prove Obedient Servants now that the King is no longer a Magician, having become a Mortal Human._

_I also extend my respectful Greetings to the King's Honorable Companion and congratulate him on his Survival. My Thanks to him for saving me the Annoyance of repeating my Efforts in Ten Years' Time. _

_The Blessings of the Goddesses to you both, as well as my personal Well-Wishes, and my Kingdom's Respectful Salutations,_

_The Queen Mother of __the Kingdom of Holegn__, or, as King Axel has called me, The Witch._

_Postscript: I anticipate that a formal Reply will cause you some difficulty, therefore, you may address your answer to the Messenger verbally and I will receive it._

Axel blinked in surprise. "The Witch?"

Roxas, at the same moment, also voiced his surprise, "What does all _that_ mean?"

Axel, though still confused over the writer of the letter, explained what he understood to Roxas. "It is a formal letter from one kingdom to another. This…Queen Mother is addressing me and asking, I suppose, if I'm planning on reclaiming my throne. She says that her kingdom, which is apparently ruled by her children now, will offer their diplomacy to mine, if I so choose. That sort of greeting often leads to alliances, which is a generous offer. I…hadn't thought about the kingdom yet, but such an offer would make rebuilding the throne far easier. I think she is also saying that she has taken the Heartless. But this last part I don't understand at all…only that I think it is addressed to you."

Roxas nodded. He would have to explain about the Witch and her current role in her own kingdom for Axel's benefit.

"I think I can explain what you don't understand…the Witch communicated with me recently. I will tell you more about what she said very soon, but in the meantime it is certain this is from her. And Axel," Roxas glanced up now, looking into the King's eyes, "About what she asks…will you reclaim your throne and your kingdom?"

Axel's brow furrowed uncertainly. "I…do not know. It certainly can be done, although not without difficulty…yet the friendship of an established kingdom would assist with that process…" He paused, thinking further, then shook his head. "I think not, though. That is…I think I should leave things as they are, and not rebuild the throne."

"Why?" Roxas asked, suddenly concerned. "Why should you not wish to? I have heard that you ruled well as a King, and I truly believe that you would still be a wise and strong ruler. I think it is what you are meant to do."

"Tell me this then," Axel answered. "The village you came from and the others in the valley…how are they now? Is there struggle, poverty, and lack? Are there foreign threats?"

Roxas paused, thinking, then shook his head. "No…we are not wealthy, but we are not poor or suffering in the valley either. And, though some villages are given to disputes, there is mainly peace in the valley, I think."

Axel nodded. "Then, if the kingdom does not need me, I am happy to leave them to their peaceful lives. Your faith in me is more than enough. Besides," he smiled at Roxas, touching the blond's chin tenderly, "if I resumed my place as King, I would soon be forced to take a Queen, for the sake of a political alliance, as well as for appearances. And we would never be free to live together – at best, we could only have a secret affair."

"Oh…" Roxas frowned deeply. He hadn't thought about that…

Axel smiled fondly. "You wouldn't like court life, Roxas. And I would be miserable if anything came between us. I would far rather live the poorest, simplest life and have you by my side than rule a kingdom and be separated from you."

"Axel…" Roxas reached for his lover happily, pulling him close and kissing him sweetly.

When they looked up again, the Heartless was already gone and the sunset was blazing beautifully.

~o~

When night fell, the moon rose, beaming silver light over the castle and the two lovers, who had retired together, sharing the large bed. Roxas was wrapped in Axel's warm arms, listening to their heartbeat and thinking of the future. Their future…together. Free.

One of the first things on Roxas' mind was an overwhelming longing to see his family and let them know that he lived. There were so many things to worry about though…

"Axel?"

"Mmm?"

"My family…can we go…see them? I just want them to know I'm alive, so they won't grieve anymore."

Axel tilted his head to look at Roxas. "Of course. If you wish, we can set out tomorrow. We're out of food anyway; I was going to try hunting, but that's something we can do along the way."

Roxas smiled, but his expression wasn't clear yet. Axel wondered at it, pondering for a minute.

"Roxas…perhaps we should go back to your village…to stay?" Blue eyes blinked up at him, surprised. Axel continued, "It is clear that you miss your family, and I don't want to separate you from them. I will go anywhere with you, gladly. Wouldn't you be happier in the valley? We could find a small house of our own, and you could be near your family."

Roxas smiled, squeezing Axel tighter for a moment. It was something he hadn't dared to suggest…but there were also doubts.

"Thank you, my love. It is…a lovely dream, and I'm happy that you would go with me. I am just…uncertain about some things."

Axel gently combed his fingers through Roxas' hair. "What things?"

"Well…I want you to meet my family, certainly, but…I worry about introducing you to them…as yourself. The King. From childhood, we are all brought up to fear you. I don't think they would reject you if I explained, but…there is also the question of…past sacrifices." Axel was silent, listening as Roxas finished. "I don't know if they ever knew anyone…who…"

"Yes." There was a dark thread in Axel's acknowledgement that Roxas immediately tried to amend.

"Or if not them, the villagers. I just…I don't think I can tell them who you really _are_."

Axel nodded solemnly. "It is probably best not to. I could remain here…"

Roxas interrupted. "No! I mean…but I do want you to meet them. Perhaps we could choose another identity for you. They don't know for sure that there was no one else here, so you could be…an escort."

Axel nodded slowly, then paused. "I would be an escort who wants to spend the rest of his life with you." He smiled as he said it, but his green eyes were troubled.

Roxas slumped slightly. "Yes…it would be difficult to explain. But there are other things I worry about." Axel silently turned his ear back to Roxas. "I fear that, in my village, it would be just as difficult for us to be together as it would be in your royal court."

Axel understood, and pulled Roxas a little closer. "We would have to be secret there too?"

"Yes."

"Would you be facing…that is…as much as I would have to take a Queen, for appearances' sake…?"

Roxas nodded slowly. "My father is the village leader, and I am the eldest son. It has always been my fate to assume leadership someday. Since I left, that fell to my brother, Sora, but if I return…I think it will be given back to me. And…the next leader must have an heir. And even if I were able to avoid becoming the village leader, marriage would eventually be necessary. For, as you say, appearances' sake. Everyone in the village marries…as long as there is nothing dreadfully wrong with them. If I did not marry, I would bring my family great grief."

"I see." Axel thought for a moment. "I wish we could think of something…there must be some way to let you stay with your family. Besides that, I don't know what else to offer you…other than an empty, ruined castle." He sounded distinctly unhappy with the idea, dissatisfied at not being able to give Roxas more. The blond just laid his head against Axel's chest.

"I will have you, won't I?"

"You will _always_ have me. _All_ of me." Axel's response was immediate and firm. Roxas smiled.

"Then…let's go visit my family, and then come back. Together." He met Axel's eyes. "All I need is you. If this is where we can live freely together, then this is where I want to be."

Axel's smile began deep in his eyes, and soon the lovers were kissing again, Roxas pressing forward so much that he was soon on top of Axel. When they parted, only slightly, their lids barely opened and breaths coming heavily, Roxas murmured, "So…if we're leaving for my village tomorrow…we will have to be discreet and secret for a few days. Shouldn't we…prepare ourselves for that?"

Axel was likewise breathless, but unsure. "I don't think we should do anything to strain your body again so soon…and before a long trip…"

Roxas cut him off with a deep kiss before replying. "I'm fine now. And I won't be able to touch you in the village. Before that, I want to be as close to you as possible. I…want to make love again. Now." He pecked lightly at Axel's lips. "Please?"

With a moan, Axel weakened. "I want you too, so much…I love you…but…"

Their disagreement was eventually solved by one of the badly-labeled, mysterious bottles of some slippery liquid from the pile of unknown medical supplies the Heartless had brought. Axel's objections were overridden, and then the red-haired man was silenced completely as Roxas, kneeling in front of him on the bed, slowly lifted his own shirt off, the moonlight painting his perfect body with bright highlights and dark shadows as he arched beautifully before Axel.

And as their heart sped up wildly, faster and faster as gazes became touches became kisses, Axel and Roxas both knew how truly they had spoken.

This was all they needed, and even this was more than enough. If all they had was each other, they were content. Now and forever.

~o~

The late afternoon sun slanted over the farmers' fields as the men began to pick up their tools and head home for dinner. The dark earth was prepared for planting in all the fields that would not be fallow this year, and much of the sowing was already underway.

Sora and Cloud gathered their tools and prepared to join the other farmers in their usual procession homeward. They called responses to the other farmers when asked about their progress, and to all appearances seemed to be carrying on with their daily lives exactly as they always had.

Until they were ready to leave. Then, together, they paused and turned their faces away from the village and home, toward the distant mountains. It was a new routine, a habit that was becoming quickly engrained in the remaining males of the Strife family. They looked across the valley, not just at the close of the day, but many times – they looked to Old Smokey. Back home, they knew Tifa and the twins did the same, glancing out the window frequently. Every Strife was sure that their son and brother was dead now, yet none of them could stop looking.

Sora always looked the longest.

Today, he saw something unusual. Motion where there had never been any. Two figures…who weren't farmers. For a long minute he stood, staring, squinting and straining to see clearly.

"Sora?" Cloud had stopped, turning back to see why his son wasn't following. When Sora didn't respond, Cloud followed his gaze. "Are those…travelers?" Cloud's vision wasn't quite as perfect as Sora's.

Sora still didn't reply. Instead, he suddenly broke into a run.

Utterly heedless of the fields and the planting, Sora ran. Feet pounding the earth, lungs burning, he ran. Soon, he was close enough to be sure. He wasn't dreaming, wasn't seeing things.

"_Roxas!_" The scream tore from his gasping throat, drawing the attention of all the farmers. Cloud heard, and began running too.

Sora didn't see any of them. All he saw was his brother, and as he got closer, Roxas also began running, although it was more of an easy jog – he was very tired from traveling, after all.

He reached Roxas and stopped dead, grabbing his brother's shoulders roughly, hands clutching at his arms, his face, searching for any part of him that might suddenly fade into a ghost and disappear, any small indication that he wasn't _real_.

"Roxas…Roxas…" He choked, unable to draw enough air after the headlong sprint, unable to ask, _Are you real? Are you alive? _ Instead, he pulled his brother into a crushing embrace…as sobs began to wrack his body.

Roxas smiled gently, arms reaching around Sora to return his little brother's hug, tears beginning to slip quickly from his eyes. He felt Sora trembling, sobbing…and tried to reassure him through his own happiness.

"I'm alive, Sora. I'm alive, and there's no curse anymore. It's all right…shhh, it's all right, I'm here."

Before the brunet could get a hold of himself, heavy footsteps thudding the earth announced Cloud's arrival. The older man saw his sons, Roxas alive and real, tears in his blue eyes as he held Sora and looked up at his father, and Cloud silently reached for his boys and closed both of them in a crushing hug. He didn't cry, but he couldn't speak either – he couldn't trust his voice.

Their little family reunion was soon surrounded by the men of the village, although most of them held back enough to keep from mobbing Roxas. Still, the crowd that gathered was loud and joyful, and Sora and Roxas were laughing and crying, and Cloud was smiling silently, his clear eyes brimming with emotion.

And Roxas' companion strolled up slowly during these greetings, then stopped, waiting outside the circle and watching. Watching the blond surrounded by those he loved…watching the joyful smiles on his lover's perfect face, delighted beyond words at seeing Roxas so happy.

~o~

In a little cottage in Strife's Ford, three small, bright-eyed children gathered before the fire one beautiful, starlit summer evening, and begged their mother for a story.

The mother, a lovely woman with fair blonde hair and the gentlest smile, finally agreed. Settling her children before her, she began.

"I have never told you this story before, children, but it is a very special one. This is the tale of the Heartless King." Eyes widened and little bodies huddled closer as the lady began.

"Long, long ago, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, there was a great King and a noble court, all in a magnificent castle atop Old Smokey. The King was powerful and rich and ruled well, but in his heart there was an evil seed of pride. And one day, that pride caused him to wrong a powerful Princess, and she laid a curse upon him in her wrath.

"Soon, the King was attacked by a horrible monster, which ate the heart right out of his chest!" The children gasped in horror. "Yet he didn't die…he survived, though his kingdom did not, and all his people were scattered. He lived on, alone atop Old Smokey. And, for hundreds of years, the King's curse was a blight on our valley. For once every ten years, a magical circlet would fall from the mountain, capture an innocent person, and drag them away to become a Sacrifice to the King. And he would eat their heart right out of their chest, even as his own heart had been eaten."

A tiny lower lip began to quiver, but the woman quickly continued. "But then! One day, not so very long ago, a very special boy was out one night, and was trapped by the circlet and taken away from his family to the King. However, this boy was braver and kinder than any boy ever chosen as a Sacrifice, and he was not afraid of the Heartless King.

"Do you know what he did, when the scary monster King came and wanted to eat his heart? Do you know what he said?"

"What? What?" The children all cried.

"He said… 'Oh Heartless King, you may _have_ my heart, if you truly need it.' He was so generous and brave to offer the King his heart!

"Well, then the King was shocked, for he had never seen such a good and giving boy, and at last he said, 'I will not take your heart. You should live on…but I must have your heart to live. So here is what I will do: If you will promise to stay here with me forever and ever, I will let you live, and I will never take another Sacrifice from the valley again.' And the brave, good boy agreed!"

"So he never could go home?" The quivering lip persisted, unwilling to be stilled by a smile yet.

The woman continued. "Actually, he _did_ go home. The King allowed him to visit his family, and he came back – he came here, to his family in _our_ village – accompanied by an escort who was sent from the King. And he spent a week here, with his parents and his siblings, and the whole village celebrated every night because he had returned, and the curse was broken forever!

"But then, after the week had gone by, the boy had to return to the mountain. But this time, he promised to return and visit again often, and the whole village threw a farewell party for him. And, at last, he departed with the escort back to the castle, to live there and protect all of us from the curse forever. And now, children…who do you think that brave boy was?"

Wide eyes glanced at each other in confusion, little blond heads shaking, none of them having any idea. The lady beamed when they asked, "Who was it?"

"It was your Uncle Roxas!" She exclaimed with a smile.

The two elder children's eyed widened in amazement, while the littlest one piped up innocently, "Who is Uncle Roxas?"

Their mother smiled. "You wouldn't remember Uncle Roxas, you were only a newborn baby the last time he came for a visit. In fact, he came to see you right after you were born. And I think you will get to meet him soon, for your Aunt Kairi will have your new cousin within the month. So you will get to see Uncle Roxas when the baby is born, and he will be amazed to see what a big girl you are now!" This delighted the smallest child, who smiled brightly.

There were more questions from the other two, especially wondering if Uncle Roxas would bring them presents again this time, which caught the littlest child's interest as well. However, after a while, she asked another question.

"Will Uncle Roxas always live with the King?"

Her mother nodded gently. "Yes. Uncle Roxas promised to stay there for the rest of his life, to protect us all. But don't worry. He always tells us that he is very happy. And someday, when his time grows short and he is a very old man, he will take the Heartless King away with him, to the Other World, where there is joy and happiness forever."

"Where the little bunny went when it died?" The smallest child piped up again.

"That's right, dear. They'll go see your little baby bunny together. And someday, we'll go see them too, and be happy and together forever."

~o~

The children went to bed, all smiles and colorful imaginings of the beautiful Other World and their heroic Uncle. And, far away atop a tall mountain, the moonlight gilded over a beautiful, ruinous castle.

Parts of the building were falling apart, crumbling to the ground, but one wing was still standing, in relatively good repair. The windows were clean and whole and the walls were solid. Beside that part of the castle, the gently sloping ground had been cultivated into fields, several different kinds of grain growing and well-tended. Further off, into the edge of the forest, there were scattered fruit trees – once a magnificent royal orchard, now gone wild, but brought under cultivation again in recent years.

Within the repaired wing of the castle, the rooms were cleaned and organized. Some were clearly designated for more utilitarian purposes than the parlors and libraries they had once been. There were storehouses and even a kitchen of sorts. Other rooms were maintained for living spaces. And there was one special room at the end of a long, large hall, situated at the base of a tower – a round room with a newly-built door. It was the only bedroom restored and kept clean.

Within, the shimmering moonlight shone through clear windows that looked out to the gardens and fields – the beams illuminating two figures asleep on the large double bed. They slept peacefully, their arms loosely around one another, and the glowing moon illuminated sun-tanned skin and long, red hair and shorter blond hair, all in sharp relief against the darkness.

The red-haired man stirred in his sleep, grunting and tugging the other closer. Blue eyes opened sleepily at the disturbance, focusing on the face opposite, which slowly relaxed again, sinking back into sleep.

And the blond smiled softly, his blue eyes slipping closed again. Saying nothing, for nothing needed to be said, he snuggled closer into the warm arms of his lover, and drifted off to sleep again.

_And so they lived together_

_Happily, forever after._

_The End._

~o~


End file.
